


Wake Up

by Halevetica



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Angst with a Happy Ending, Concerned Derek Hale, Hallucinations, M/M, Magic Stiles, Nemeton, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow updates because the author broke her finger, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Spark to be Stiles Stilinski, Stiles pulls away from the pack a bit, Strange Dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halevetica/pseuds/Halevetica
Summary: When Stiles starts having strange dreams that start to meld with his reality, he can't tell if he's losing his mind or not and he begins to pull away from the pack in order to keep it from them. Luckily Derek and Scott are too concerned with the newest threat in town to worry too much with Stiles, at first. But as Stiles gets worse he can only keep hiding the truth from those closest to him for so long.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 200
Kudos: 506





	1. Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a new fic that I've started. It was meant to be a one shot but it has gotten too long and so I have decided to turn it into a mini fic. It will likely not be longer than like ten to fifteen chapters probably. Unless things just go totally crazy, which has been known to happen with me, lol! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

The wind whipped around Stiles, stinging his face and bare arms like a burn. It was one of the coldest nights, he remembered his father mentioning it as he grabbed his jacket before heading out for the night.

Stiles’ feet ached as the underbrush pricked at the bareness of them. He didn’t slow his pace though. He was determined to get to his destination. It wasn’t far. He could hear the whispers calling out to him. Though he couldn’t make out the words, he knew they were meant for him.

He hugged himself as he pushed forward, trying to keep what little warmth he had, until, he saw it. The large lifeless stump. Only it wasn’t as lifeless as Stiles had remembered it to be the last time he’d been here, so many years before. There was a glow now that it had lacked then. A glow that radiated warmth that beckoned Stiles forward.

The whispers that called out to him were no clearer than they had been, despite how close the human was.

He unfolded his arms from around himself and reached out as if to touch the Nemeton. A loud murmur thrummed in Stiles ears too loud to decipher anything clearly.

Stepping closer the Nemeton seemed to swell with power.

“Tinwe.” The word was practically screamed in Stiles’ ears as a burst of light exploded from the Nemeton.

As Stiles was thrust back, he put his arms up to protect his face. The landing on his back and smacking his head on the ground didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the sharp needle like pains he felt in his forearms.

As the light died down into the stillness of night. No soft glow, no whipping wind, no Nemeton. Just brushy underground surrounded by trees, Stiles sat up.

He felt pain shoot through his forearms as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Flipping his arms, he saw dozens of tiny splinters embedded into his arms. They glowed with the intensity that the Nemeton had and stung with the fierceness of the wind.

Stiles closed his eyes and braced for pulling them out.

When he opened his eyes, he felt a strange warmth he hadn’t felt before and light poured into his eyes, blinding him temporarily. He blinked, allowing his eyes to focus better. Only what he expected to see was not his bedroom.

“A dream,” He puffed out with relief. He shouldn’t have had that second coffee last night, but he wanted to be sure he knew the difference between a pixie and a fairy. The pack had made that mistake earlier in the week and it almost cost Isaac his life. Now they could handle the Pixie, as Stiles had found out.

He sat up and instantly felt a sharp pain shoot down his right forearm. He flipped his arm to see the dozen or so splinters from his dream were seated in his skin. Raw and red.

Stiles frowned before flipping his other arm to see it matched.

“What the hell?” he whispered into the empty room.

Grabbing his phone, he checked the time. He had an hour before he was meant to be at Derek’s for The pack meeting where he was meant to share what he’d found on their pixie friend.

There was no way he would be able to remove all of these and hide the pain he was in. And if anyone touched him, it would be over. The pain would leach out of him, he was sure of it.

Stiles groaned as he pulled himself from his bed and to the shower. Hot water would loosen the skin, he remembered that from when he got a splinter in his foot as a kid.

He spent the next thirty minutes pulling out over two dozen wooden slivers from his arms. It was painful, but pain was something he was used to. Running with wolves had forced him to know pain in ways he never had. In ways some people never would. But right now, he was thankful because he couldn’t go to anyone else for help with this. How would he even explain it?

Memories of chemistry boards and unknown keys plagued his mind. Traps and bombs meant for loved ones. Chaos and pain.

Stiles shook his head. This wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. It was just a fluke. Perhaps he’d been sleepwalking, and his dreams painted a funny picture to go along. Nothing more.

If it was nothing more than why was he currently wrapping his arms in too much gauze, desperate to hide the wounds? Why was he already planning to take ibuprofen for the pain? Why was he already concocting a lie that the pack would believe? Because he knew that it wasn’t nothing. Nothing didn’t drag you through the woods at night, wondering if it was real. Nothing didn’t plague your dreams with possible memories. Nothing didn’t wake you with dozens of splinters. Nothing didn’t leave you with no recollection of getting home. Nothing didn’t exist in Beacon Hills.

Stiles dressed as quickly and carefully as he could, thankful that it was winter, and the long sleeves and hoodie wouldn’t be questioned. The more layers he could use to cover his arms the better.

He knew he’d be late, but he was hungry and a handful of ibuprofen on an empty stomach was never a smart idea. He tossed a hot pocket into the microwave as he pulled on his shoes and shoved the research he’d printed from the night before into his bag.

The beeping that signaled his food was done, startled him. He was too wound up. The pack would notice if he didn’t calm down.

Rolling his neck and shoulders, he tried to relax, but it was no use. His mind was too occupied on the events of the night before. Was it a dream? Had his dream bled into reality? Had he truly found the Nemeton and just not remembered getting home? What had it said before throwing him back again? He couldn’t remember.

Wrapping the hot pocket in a paper towel he headed for the door, now wasn’t the time to think about that. He had to get through this pack meeting.


	2. Plan

The ride to Derek's was spent dwelling. He ate his hot pocket and tried to force the memory or dream, whatever it was, from his mind. But it just wouldn't budge. It was determined to riddle his thoughts. His arms stung still but the medicine was starting to kick in much to his relief. All he had to do was get through the next thirty minutes to an hour, however long this meeting took.

"You're late," Was the first thing said to Stiles as he stepped into Derek's loft.

"I know, I'm sorry, I spent way too much time in the shower," Stiles gave a sheepish smile as he dropped his bag. He gave a small wince as the motion tugged at the gauze stuffed under his jacket sleeve. It didn't go unnoticed.

"You're hurt," Scott, Isaac and Derek chorused.

Stiles tried to keep the annoyance of being found out so soon off his face.

"I cooked something," he shrugged. "My arm got hurt."

"Are you okay?" Scott asked, buying into the lie, just like Stiles knew he would. 

Stiles had become a very good liar ever since he learned of Scott's werewolf abilities. He manipulated his words and his phrases in order to keep the pack from figuring out that he was lying. He'd gotten good at it over the years. 

What he didn't know was that Derek had picked up on Stiles' way of talking. How he would spout his words as they came to him when he was telling the truth and how he would speak meticulously when lying. How he would phrase things in just such a way so that his words never read as a lie.

Derek narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything as the pack moved on. Only recently had Derek and Scott come together and agreed to work as one. Two alphas working together in the same territory with two packs was rare but two alphas in the same pack working together was unheard of.

"So what did you find on our little winged friend?" Lydia asked as she held out her hand for the pages Stiles had printed out the night before.

He held them out and hoped no one noticed the bit of gauze peeking out from under his sleeve.

Derek did, but he said nothing, opting to keep the information to himself. 

"We're dealing with a Pixie," Stiles answered as the pack gathered around the table. 

Typically Stiles would be rattling on about what he'd learned and some crazy plan that he'd concocted but instead he remained in his chair at the end of the table as the rest of the pack gathered around Lydia who read off what Stiles had printed. 

"This is great, we can really use this to our advantage," Scott looked up at Stiles with a grateful smile.

Stiles returned it halfheartedly. 

"Where's your half-cocked plan about how to take her out?" Malia frowned, crossing her arms at the human.

"Excuse me, my plans are well thought out and efficient thank you," Stiles scoffed in offense.

Derek noticed the lack of flailing that accompanied his defense.

"You mean to tell us you don't have a plan?" Scott rose his brows at his best friend. That was unlike Stiles.

"I didn't say that," Stiles shook his head. He had come up with one, but it required him being at his best and right now he definitely wasn't, and he couldn't risk him not being at his best. It could get someone hurt. He couldn't let that happen.

"So, what is it?" Malia pressed.

"Well..." Stiles was quick on his feet. He could come up with another plan in the next four seconds, right? "I thought we could use Isaac as bait," He grinned, tossing the beta a shit eating grin.

"You're not using me as bait," Isaac growled. Not amused with Stiles' joke.

"Well," Stiles threw up a hand and winced as it grazed the table on the way back down to his lap.

Derek noted that the gauze had been on the other arm. 

"It's fine, we'll think of something," Scott tossed a scolding look at Stiles, but there was an underlying smirk on his friend's lips.

It was no secret that Isaac and Stiles teased each other mercilessly, like rival brothers. The joke was a good distraction from the fact that Stiles didn't have a plan anymore. His original plan had been to trap her with Iron. Though luring her in would be the tricky part, but she went after humans. He was human. He would have to do the trapping. She wouldn't likely show up around the pack again. 

"Derek, you've been awfully quiet," Lydia looked to the other alpha whose eyes were still on Stiles.

"I think Stiles isn't telling us everything," Derek said, his eyes not leaving the human.

"What?" Stiles swallowed. Surely Derek hadn't figured him out so quickly. He fought to keep his heartrate as even as possible as he nodded towards Lydia. 

"Everything I found is in there."

"Maybe, but you smell exhausted, you were late, you cut yourself carelessly...Did you even sleep or did you spend all night trying to find the pixie yourself? Was that your plan? She only kills humans after all." Derek crossed his arms over his chest.

Relief washed over Stiles and he prayed that Derek didn't smell it on him.

"What? No," He shook his head. "I just slept like shit and I don't actually have a plan," he admitted. 

Derek raised a brow at Stiles. He had blurted his answer instead of choosing his wording carefully. He wasn't lying. That gave Derek some peace of mind. But the fact that Stiles hadn't come up with any kind of plan was concerning. Stiles always had a plan and a contingency plan and contingency plan for his contingency plan. Something was up. Derek had to ask a direct question. One that had a yes or no answer that Stiles couldn't manipulate. 

"Stiles, are you alri-" 

But before Derek could get anything more out, Stiles was standing, "I should get home. I'm gonna have lunch with my dad. Text me anything new?"

Another meticulously structured sentence. 

"Yeah," Scott nodded unfazed by the abrupt leaving of his friend. 

Derek only narrowed his eyes again.

Stiles winced as he lifted his bag with one hand and carefully placed it on his shoulder. 

There was no denying it, Stiles was lying, and Derek intended to find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one, to get things rolling. Hope you like it!


	3. Dirt

Stiles had spent hours walking through the woods trying desperately to find the Nemeton. To find if there was any way he'd actually been there. The pack would be pissed if they found out he'd been searching the woods on his own with a pixie about, but he wasn't worried about her. He was more concerned with the fact that he woke up with dozens of splinters in his skin for no reason other than he'd dreamt it. 

It was nearly nine at night and the sun had set well beyond the horizon. It was growing colder, and his legs ached from shuffling through foliage and underbrush for hours trying to find the remnants of a tree that didn't want to be found.

He walked in to see his dad in the living room with the latest game he'd missed on the tv.

"Hey, son, you're out late," Noah paused the tv, glancing over at the door Stiles had just stepped through.

Stiles froze. He hadn't even noticed the cruiser in the driveway. 

"Yeah, was helping the pack track that pixie," Stiles waved a nonchalant hand, trying to hide the wince. But his father wasn't sheriff for nothing.

"Are you hurt?" Noah was immediately on his feet.

"It's nothing, I just tripped in the woods and landed a little weird, Derek already looked at it," Stiles lied, shaking his head.

"Are you sure?" Noah stepped towards his son, but Stiles was already heading for the stairs.

"Yeah, look, I'm gonna go grab a shower, I've been traipsing through the woods for hours and I'm tired."

Noah stopped and nodded. "Alright, let me know if you need anything," the concerned frown didn't leave his face as he watched Stiles climb the stairs slowly. 

Stiles let out a relieved sigh when he made it to his room, he flopped down on his unmade bed, kicking off his shoes. His whole body ached. He didn't remember the last time he was this tired. He could just close his eyes and fall asleep right there. Shower, he needed to shower. He wasn't that dirty, but he felt grungy due to his hiking through the woods for hours on end. But sleep was mere moments away if only he let it be.

-

If one were to ask you what dirt tasted like, it would be hard to explain. Dirt was just dirt. However, Stiles would tell you that it tasted of geosmin, the protein produced by bacteria and fungi that gives it that earthy flavor. How would he know that? Because he was currently choking on it. In fact, he was currently buried in it. He was digging at the soft granules as he gasped for air that would never come. The earthy flavor dry on his tongue and scratching at his throat. 

His fingers breached the surface finally and he pulled himself free, but his lung still couldn't rid themselves of the soil. He coughed and the dark earth fell from his mouth as he knelt on his hands and knees, forcing up as much as he could. His vision was blurred and his heady dizzy from lack of oxygen, but still he fought.

Finally, finally, when it seemed like he would either pass out, or his head explode, his lungs expanded, and the dirt was no more. Instead fresh air swelled in his chest.

His vision cleared enough for him to see the Nemeton's faint glow in front of him.

He turned to look at the shallow grave he'd pulled himself from only to see that surrounding it and himself were hundreds, possibly thousands of bloodied splinters like the ones he'd pulled from his own arms.

Scrambling to his feet, he spun to see he was surrounded by them. He couldn't take a single step without risking damage to his bare feet. 

It was then that he felt a warm sensation on the sleeves of his forearms. He looked down to see the light grey of his shirt was now soaking in blood. Yanking up the sleeves, he saw the wounds from the splinters bleeding as more slivers of wood began to slide out of his skin. Splinters that shouldn't have been there.

Stiles looked up to the Nemeton and shouted, "What do you want?" as loud as he could. But his voice was raspy sounding as the dirt coating his throat made it hard to speak still. 

He coughed and more dirt came up. "It's a dream. Wake up," He whispered, as he closed his eyes.

-

When Stiles woke this time, he bolted up, he was still dressed in yesterday's clothes. He'd fallen asleep before he could make it to the shower. He took in a sharp breath and was relieved that he could breathe but the dry gritty feeling in his mouth sent panic through him. 

"No," He whispered. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked down at his hands to seem them stained with dirt that hadn't been there last night. Soil caked under his short nails. The bed had remnants of too much dirt. Dirt that had definitely not been there the night before. His sleeves were also stained in blood.

"Shit," Stiles peeled off the shirt and headed for the bathroom. He had to get rid of the blood, there would be no explaining that much blood to his father. He knew how to get rid of it easily enough. Soak it in some peroxide. He turned on the sink and dared to look at his own reflection.

It was as bad as he thought it would be. He looked tired. Too tired. His face was smeared with dirt and his eyes were circled from lack of quality sleep. His lips chapped and the cracks filled with soil. He was in desperate need of a shower. 

He plugged the sink and filled it with peroxide and hot water before plunging his shirt into it. The peroxide instantly began to lift the red stain. It would likely take some time to get it all, so he decided to let it sit while he showered.

He grabbed his toothbrush, toothpaste, and the entire bottle of mouthwash and turned to the shower.

While the water was heating up, he unwrapped his arms. He tried to prepare himself for what he would find underneath them. More splinters. Bleeding wounds. But he got neither of those. In fact, what he found confused him further.

There was nothing except one cut near his wrist on his left hand. Stiles blinked down at his arms. He hadn't imagined them. He's spent almost thirty minutes tending to those wounds just yesterday. 

He ran his fingers along the skin of his right forearm as if he might feel the wounds that he couldn't see, but no. There was nothing. 

He turned to the one slit on his wrist and let his thumb graze it gently. It stung too much to be a healing wound. 

He looked closer and it seemed as if the splinter might still be inside. He tried to spread the wound a bit to see better but the wood only sunk deeper, almost like it was intentional.

Stiles frowned. That wasn't good. He ran his right hand through his hair and tugged harshly as tears pricked his eyes. He didn't know what was happening to him and it was really starting to freak him out. He licked his lips as he recalled the way he'd chocked on the dirt. 

Images of white cloth being pulled from his throat almost made him gag. 

"This isn't that, this isn't that," Stiles whispered to himself as he stepped into the hot shower, desperate to get the dirt off. Maybe if he washed off the dirt, he could wash away the memory of the dream. He knew that wasn't true and he was pretty sure it wasn't even a dream, but he had to do something.

Stiles had never scrubbed his mouth so much in his entire life. And by the end of the shower he had pretty much decimated any sort of gag reflex he had previously had. That would likely benefit him in the future so there was a silver lining at least. He tried to laugh at his own joke but the stress he bore was too much. 

Dressed in nothing but a towel, he tended to his shirt. He had managed to get all the blood out thankfully. 

He tossed it in the dryer and pulled on another shirt when he heard a knock downstairs. He didn't think much of it until he heard the unmistakable voice of one Derek Hale.

Panic surged through Stiles as he grabbed a pair of sweats not even bothering to grab underwear and yanked them on. His bed was still covered in far too much dirt. Derek would no doubt question him.

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs signaled that Derek was on his way up. 

Stiles frantically threw the covers over the mess, hoping like hell it hid it well enough. He turned around just as Derek knocked on his cracked door.

"Derek, hey, what are you doing here?" Stiles asked, praying his heart wasn't racing like a jackrabbit.

Derek's brow raised as he glanced around the room. "Why do you look like a teenage girl hiding a boy in her room?"

"What?" Stiles balked.

"You're hiding something, I want to know what it is," Derek crossed his arms.

"Wh-what?" Stiles knew that outright denying it would be a lie and Derek would hear it, so he had to be careful.

"Your arms, let me see them," Derek demanded.

"What? Why?" Stiles didn't want Derek to see. Although they'd healed now, and he only had one splinter so it would technically match up to his lie.

"Because you said you cut yourself, but yesterday you were wincing with both arms. Let me see them," Derek held out his hand as he stepped closer to Stiles.

Stiles bit down on his lip and held out his arms.

Derek pulled up Stiles' right sleeve first. Nothing was there. 

Derek frowned before then more forcefully yanking up the left sleeve.

Stiles let out a mild hiss as the fabric slid over the sensitive skin.

"Sorry," Derek apologized instantly, and his grip softened. 

Stiles felt relief wash over him then and he realized Derek was pulling his pain. 

"I'm fine," Stiles snapped, pulling away then. "It's just a cut."

Derek frowned looking up at Stiles with worried eyes that Stiles recognized. He'd seen those eyes look at him that way before.

"You're not sleeping."

Stiles let out a huff.

"You're anxiety is-"

"Can you not? I'm aware of my mental state, Derek. Thank you," Stiles snapped. 

"Stiles, if something's wrong-"

"I'll let you know," Stiles cut in. 

Derek looked like he'd been smacked in the face. He'd heard the lie clear as day and Stiles didn't try to hide it. Stiles and Derek confided in each other about everything. It was their dynamic. Stiles was Derek's anchor, that was no secret. Stiles and Derek had talked about it and they'd grown close maybe not as close as Scott and Stiles, but Derek was someone Stiles could trust. Or at least Derek had thought.

"If not me, then at least talk to Scott?" Derek's tone was pleading.

"It's a cut, Derek," Stiles spoke between grit teeth.

"If you're nightmares are back then-"

"Are you here for another reason or are you gonna continue to play therapist? Cause there's more pressing issues at the moment," Stiles cut in again.

Derek's jaw clenched. "Avoiding it won't fix it."

"There's nothing to-" Stiles cut himself off. He couldn't say that because it would be a lie. "Look, can we take care of this pixie please? We can deal with my nightmares later."

"So it is your nightmares," Derek's shoulders slumped.

Stiles huffed, giving Derek a pointed look.

"Okay, fine, but we're talking about this later," Derek growled.

"Fine," Stiles rolled his eyes.

Derek's jaw twitched at the lie. What had he done that made Stiles refuse to talk to him? Derek had helped Stiles through nightmares before. Why would this be any different?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it!


	4. Pain

Stiles stood stiffly, not looking at Derek. He had a bed full of dirt that came from god knows where, nightmares that maybe weren't nightmares, and a splinter in his skin that he couldn't possibly begin to explain how it got there. He just wanted Derek gone. 

The realization of that startled Stiles suddenly. He'd never wanted Derek gone. Derek had become a haven of sorts. He and Scott were the two people that he knew no matter what, he could rely on if he needed them. So why did he want Derek gone so bad?

He glanced at the concerned looking alpha. Derek's expressions rarely gave away what he was thinking, but Stiles knew him. He'd grown to read Derek. The expression he wore now was begging Stiles to be honest with him, to let him in. 

Immediately Stiles knew why he wanted Derek gone. He couldn't subject the pack to this right now. They had more pressing issues. There was a pixie literally killing people. That took precedence. And he didn't even know what was wrong. So he'd woken up with a few cuts, and covered in dirt. Maybe he'd been sleep walking again. That wasn't out of the norm for him. And if this turned out to be something more dangerous like...last time...he would handle it. He wouldn't let it get as far as last time. He wouldn't let people they loved get hurt because of him. So yeah, he wanted Derek gone.

"If you don't have anything to say pertaining to the pixies then you should probably go," Stiles spoke up then, his tone even and just on this side of cold.

Derek's heart sunk just a little lower before giving a small nod. If that's what Stiles wanted, then he'd respect that. Stiles had always respected when he wanted to left alone.

He did pause at the door to glance over his shoulder. "We're putting a search party together at sundown, you'd know this if you bothered to stick around the pack meeting yesterday. We agreed you probably shouldn't go, being human and all."

Stiles nodded. That would give him time to research his current dilemma. The pixie only killed humans so he would be a prime target.

Derek frowned. Stiles would normally pitch a fit, refusing to be left behind, insisting he could be of use doing something ridiculous and dangerous. But Stiles merely agreed silently, and Derek knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

He clenched his jaw unable to help the frustrated that was building up.

Stiles, seeing the tension rise in Derek's shoulders, knew that his lack of argument was about to start another argument.

"I can finish my research here, see if I can't find something that can lure it in. See if I can find a pattern in it's killings. I know I won't be any use out there. This thing is killing people. It killed one of my dad's deputies. My dad could be next. I want this thing stopped." Stiles huffed before Derek could say anything. "So if that means staying behind while you hunt through the woods aimlessly with no way to catch the thing, then yeah, I'll stay behind," He rolled his eyes before turning to his computer, hoping that would be enough to evade the upcoming argument. 

Derek relaxed his shoulders slightly and nodded. "Call if you find anything useful."

"No, I thought I'd keep it to myself," Stiles quipped to Derek's retreating back.

Derek opted not to respond as he headed down the stairs.

Stiles listened for the front door before letting out a heavy sigh. That had been too much. He had to get better at lying to Derek. Scott he could lie to his face and he'd buy it, but Derek wasn't so easily fooled. 

Stiles turned to his sloppily made bed sheets and ran a hand over his face. He would have to wash those. 

As Stiles set to cleaning his bed, he tried to think of where he could look for the nemeton next. He was sure he'd covered the entire south side the night before. Perhaps he should try the east side this time. He glanced at the clock. I was nearly eleven. He had until sundown to find the damn thing. The pack would be looking for the pixie after that and he couldn't risk running into them.

-

Stiles finally found himself at the edge of the woods at ten til Twelve. He licked at his lip and bit down, his anxiety growing as he looked into the vast wooded area that stretched out in front of him, beckoning him forward. 

"It's just a tree, it can't hurt you," Stiles had been less afraid yesterday when he'd ventured into the woods in search of the nemeton. Of course, he'd only had one dream and he wasn't even sure it'd been real. Now though, something was up, and it definitely had to do with the tree. 

He stepped into the woods and made his way through, praying it was in a direction that would give him answers.

Over the course of the next five hours, Stiles trudged through underbrush in search of a tree that refused to be found. Did it even exist? Was it just a figment of all their imaginations?

Stiles checked his phone to see he had about an hour til sundown. He needed to head back to his jeep.

He made his way back towards the way he'd came before stopping. A slight buzz in his ears caused him to freeze. Was that the sound of pixie wings? He wasn't familiar with what pixie wings sounded like, but he really wasn't prepared to find out.

Fear built up in him and simultaneously, his arm began to sting where the splinter had embedded itself deeper.

He gripped at the sore spot, his eyes scanning worriedly. His heart was hammering in his chest and he prayed the pixie couldn't hear it. Were their senses keen like a werewolf's? He couldn't remember. All the research he had done drew a blank in his mind. All he could concentrate on was the sudden sharp pain in his arm.

It grew sharper and sharper. He grit his teeth against it, willing it away, but it remained. 

His breathing began to grow rapid and he knew what that meant. 

"No," He barely whispered to himself. He couldn't afford a panic attack right now. 

He backed himself against a tree, his eyes scanning as he did so. A flash of a dark figure no bigger than a bird zipped by less than twenty feet away.

Stiles whipped his head to try and spot it again. That was too fast to be a bird and it buzzed like a bee. It was definitely the pixie. 

"Fuck."

A shift in the trees told him that it was still on the move. Stiles went to pull out his phone to call Derek or Scott, but his hands shook and when he looked down his arm was bleeding. 

Stiles' stomach twisted and his chest heaved with heavy breaths. Now was not the time for this. He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to see the splintered wound was bleeding as if it was fresh.

When Stiles looked up then, he froze. The pixie stood before him at full height. No wings in sight. She looked normal. Thin, pale with short auburn hair pinned back by a few flowers that looked harmless if you didn't know the species. Stiles, however, recognized the poisonous plants from his research with Deaton. Her pointed features were dark and not welcoming like they were in fairy tales. Her plain grey eyes faded to a dark black as she focused them on Stiles' bleeding arm.

Stiles only swallowed. Her pretty features morphed into what Stiles imagined was her true form. Her blackened eyes raised to Stiles' and her mouth pulled into a large grin too big for her face. It showed rows of too many razor-sharp teeth. Her nose pointed too much to be anything human like.

Stiles' brain wracked for anything he could think of to help him, but nothing came to mind. 

"You will live to tell of my clan," She sneered.

"Y-your what?" Stiles swallowed again. The pain in his arm was so sharp he wasn't sure he could stand it much longer. His eyes watered from the sharpness. His vision was starting to waver slightly, and he wondered if it was something the pixie was doing or if it was because of the ever-growing intensity of the pain.

"My clan. In the name of whom I kill," She spoke again taking a step closer. "You are with the local alpha. I sense him on you."

Stiles braced back against the tree, trying desperately to hold onto the consciousness that was threatening to leave him. "I'll tell him anything you want," he panted.

"Tell him of the Aredhel Clan. Let him know, blood flows because they make it so," Her malicious grin didn't falter as she stepped back and away from Stiles into the shadows. 

His already wavering vision caused him to lose sight of the pixie.

The pain shot up Stiles' arm pulling an involuntary hiss from his throat. His legs buckled under him, sending his knees crashing into large roots that belonged to the tree he'd been pressed against, as his vision faded out completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it!😊


	5. Bleeding

When Stiles opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the soft sway of leaves above him and the cascading moonlight as it poured between the branches that loomed over him. His back ached from the roots he was currently laying across, as they dug into his soft muscles. 

Carefully, he pushed himself to a sitting position to better take in his surroundings. The dark forest was silent around him. He was alone. No sign of the pixie. 

Stiles shoved a shaking hand into his pants pocket, pulling out his phone to see it was well past six. 

"Shit," he swore, scrambling up and onto somewhat unsteady legs. He scanned the area again just in case, but it seemed he was truly alone.

The pain he'd been consumed with before was mostly gone. All that remained of it was a dull throb in his skull. He checked his arm to see the blood stain on his shirt was still there. Pulling up the sleeve he saw the dried blood from where the wound had bled.

"It was real?" Stiles whispered to himself in question as he looked around for evidence that the pixie had indeed been there. 

His eyes tried to focus on the surrounding trees as if to spot her. He turned to the tree next to him as if it would have the answers, and froze. 

On the trunk, just at eye line, was blood. Stiles reached out to touch the blood but before he could reach it, it began to gush from the bark. 

Stiles stumbled back as the tree poured with too much blood.

Before he knew it, he was bumping into another tree. When he turned at the sudden contact, his breath caught as this tree too started to bleed.

His eyes scanned all the nearby trees his human eyes could focus on in the dim light of the moon, to see that they were all bleeding.

Stiles' breathing grew rapid and his hands began to sweat. "It's gotta be a dream. Just wake up. Wake up. Wake up," He squeezed his eyes shut as he distanced himself from the trees the best he could in the crowded woods.

When he opened his eyes, he bit down on his lip to hold back a sob when he found himself still in the forest, surrounded by bleeding trees.

His breathing grew faster and shallower. He was losing his mind. He started to count his fingers again when he heard a snap behind him. 

Instantly he froze. He lifted his head slowly in the direction of the sound. He noticed that the trees had stopped bleeding and a sharp pain pricked at his arm ever so slightly, his headache also vanished as if by magic. His breathing was slow and even and he was laser focused on where the sound had come from. 

Had the pixie changed her mind? Had she come back to kill him after all?

"Stiles?" Derek stepped from the shadows, a concerned scowl on his face.

Relief swept over Stiles and immediately the pain in his arm was gone and the headache returned. Stiles was partially glad to see Derek and also partially really unhappy that he'd not gotten out of the woods before the pack took to their search.

"What are you doing out here? I specifically told you not to come out here?" Derek growled. "You tricked me. Made me believe you didn't want to come out here so that you could sneak out here on your own. You are unbelievable, Stiles. Is this a joke to you? This pixie is killing people. What if she killed you? What if-"

"But she didn't," Stiles cut in. "In fact, she spared me so that I could give you a message."

Derek's jaw snapped shut harshly. His nostrils flaring. "What?" He grit out between clenched teeth.

"I ran into her. She is...scary...but she gave me a message to pass on to the alpha. She didn't say which, so I figured she didn't know that there were two of you. But we can tell Scott too so if she meant him the message was given and I don't get killed for doing it wrong," Stiles rambled quickly.

"What message, Stiles?" Derek snapped.

"She wanted me to live to tell of her clan. In the name of whom she kills. She sensed the local alpha on me. She said, and I quote, "Tell him of the Aredhel Clan. Let him know, blood flows because they make it so." Then she left."

"That's it?" Derek took a step closer.

Stiles only nodded.

"Are you hurt?" Derek's anger shifted to worry as the smell of blood hit his nose.

"My wound opened up, it's fine," Stiles grabbed at his arm gently.

Derek frowned at the blood-stained shirt but made no move to go towards Stiles. He hadn't lied at least.

"Did she hurt you? Anything?"

"I think she did some weird spell or something, I don't know. I passed out and I just woke up a few minutes ago," Stiles shrugged.

Derek took in a deep breath and began to explain where everyone else was, but Stiles wasn't able to concentrate on what Derek was saying as a slight trickle of blood began to seep from Derek's hairline. 

Stiles swallowed as the blood started to pour from his nose next. He blinked but the blood only poured heavier, now starting from the corner of his eyes. 

Derek didn't seem to notice the sticky substance oozing down his face as he spoke.

"Am I awake?" Stiles interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Derek frowned at Stiles, cutting off mid-sentence. 

"Am I-" Stiles swallowed as he took a step back, his eyes scanning the trees where they'd bled before to see the leaves were now dripping in the crimson liquid.

"Stiles?" Derek took a step forward, concern etched in features and tone.

"I need to wake up," Stiles looked down at his hands to start counting them.

"Hey, look at me," Derek grabbed Stiles' hands in his then, forcing Stiles to look up. Derek's face now clear of the blood. "You're awake."

"I think...the pixie," Stiles bit down on his bottom lip.

"She clearly did something," Derek nodded in agreement.

"It had to be," Stiles didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or Derek. "She probably wanted to make sure I couldn't follow her," he nodded.

Derek put an arm around Stiles back and gently led him towards the edge of the trees. "Let's get you home and rested. You can tell me what happened tomorrow, okay?" Derek offered.

Stiles only nodded. He wouldn't argue with that. Being alone was definitely the best bet right now. Stiles tried not to concentrate on the fact that all the trees were bleeding as they passed them.

Once they reached his jeep Stiles turned to Derek and tried not to gasp at the blood that pooled in his eyes. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Not so fast. You're not driving if you're under some magical influence," Derek held out his hand for Stiles' keys.

"But the pack needs you," Stiles panicked mildly and hoped Derek wouldn't sense it.

"They've got Scott, they'll be fine," Derek insisted, his hand still outstretched impatiently.

Stiles fished the keys from his pocket and handed them over. Derek was right. And honestly, he would have felt safer driving if he were drunk than he did right now. He just had to remember that whatever the pixie had done was what was causing his hallucinations. He was fine. It was nothing. He was...fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, hope you enjoyed it. I'd also like to hear your thoughts on what's going on with Stiles if you have any.😊


	6. Roots

Stiles kept his eyes on his lap the entire ride home. He didn't dare look at Derek, even when Derek spoke.

"You shouldn't have gone out there, Stiles, I told you it was dangerous," Derek's tone was somewhere between stern and worried.

"I know," Stiles answered simply.

"She could have...She could have killed you," Derek gripped the steering wheel harder, though it went unnoticed by Stiles. 

"I didn't think I'd run into her," Stiles kept his answers vague. He wasn't even out there for her, and it was true, he hadn't thought he'd run into her.

"You're human, that's what she goes after. That was incredibly reckless," Derek's tone was growing more frustrated.

"I know," Stiles answered again.

"Then why did you do it?" Derek snapped; his patience was waning. 

Stiles took in a deep breath, his hands clenching into fists. He had to answer carefully, or Derek would find out the real reason he was in the woods. 

"I was looking for answers."

That wasn't a lie. He had been looking for answers. Just not the answers that Derek thought.

Derek let out an aggravated huff but let the conversation drop as they pulled into Stiles' driveway.

"I can make it inside alone; you should help the pack," Stiles said climbing out of the jeep hurriedly, still avoiding looking at Derek.

"Are you sure?" Derek called after Stiles who was already making his way up the steps and towards his door.

"Yeah," Stiles waved a hand as he pushed the front door open, "I'm just going to bed." He said, glancing over his shoulder, daring a look at the alpha.

"Okay, call me if you need anything," Derek was frowning. He could tell Stiles just wanted to be alone and he would respect that, despite how much he wanted to stay and make sure Stiles was alright.

Stiles was glad to be away from Derek finally. Whatever had happened to him in the woods had freaked him out. He wasn't even sure what had happened. Had the Pixie done something to him? He wanted to believe that was it, but something in the back of his head told him it was related to the dreams he'd been having. 

He looked down at the blood-stained sleeve where the splinter had bled. Why had it started to bleed like that? 

With a confused and frustrated huff, Stiles drug himself up the stairs and to his room. He peeled the shirt off and tossed it onto his bathroom floor. He was too tired to deal with the blood stains now.

He examined the cut where the splinter was still embedded into his skin to see it looked undisturbed, but still as fresh as the moment he'd gotten it. 

With another confused and frustrated sigh, he stepped into the shower to try and wash off the night's events. He'd not found the nemeton and instead found the Pixie in all her horror.

Once Stiles was dried and dressed, he decided an early night's rest would be best. 

As he laid in bed, his phone lit up with a message from Scott.

"Derek told us what happened. Are you okay?"

Stiles tossed him a quick message assuring him that he was fine.

After a few back and forth messages and a plan to meet at Derek's the next day for a pack meeting to discuss what happened, Stiles rolled over in hopes of a restful night.

-

The fog was thick in the woods as Stiles walked through the underbrush. He had been walking for hours in search of the nemeton and yet nothing. The more he walked, the heavier his footsteps grew, until he was barely able to pick his feet up. It was then he saw it. The nemeton, a glowing beacon in the fogged distance.

With newfound determination, Stiles pressed on, only his feet were still heavy. Too heavy. He looked down to see small vines and roots wrapping around his feet as he tried to lift them. With a heavy pull he managed to snap the vines and lift his right foot free. But as soon as it reconnected with the ground so he could free his left foot, it was consumed by thicker roots. He trudged and pulled his way as best as he could, each time the roots claimed a little more of his legs until he was unable to free himself from the encroaching wood. 

The roots wrapped around him like a boa constrictor crushing it's prey. The pulsing glow of the nemeton mere yards away at this point.

"What do you want?" He shouted as the roots wound around his torso. He fought them, pulling at them fruitlessly.

The sound of what he'd thought to be wind grew as the roots wound around him faster now. The sound hadn't been wind at all, but faint whispering. Whispering that he'd heard before. 

"Tinwe." 

"I don't know what that means," Stiles tried to yell, but the sound was more of a wheeze as the vines crushed his chest.

His arms were consumed in the roots, making it impossible to fight. 

His breathing grew labored as he fought to take it oxygen.

Wake up. He thought as he closed his eyes, the roots now climbing up his throat, choking him. Wake. Up. 

-

Stiles' eyes shot open and he inhaled sharply, the air piercing his lungs easily. He was sitting up in bed. He clawed at his throat to find no trace of roots. Relief washed over him as he flung the covers off.

He froze when he saw roots wound around his left ankle and right calf. Swallowing, he carefully lifted his legs to see that the roots fell away from him effortlessly.

He let out a relieved sigh as he kicked them off. He ran a hand over his face as he tried desperately to keep from having a meltdown. He never felt so confused or alone. 

Thankfully his phone rang then, pulling him from the spiral he was heading down.

"Scott, hey," Stiles answered with an unsteady voice.

"Hey, are you coming?" his best friend's tone was concerned.

"Coming where?" Stiles frowned.

"To Derek's for the pack meeting? It was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago."

"Shit," Stiles swore, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. 

"I overslept, I'll be right there," Stiles didn't give Scott the chance to respond before he was hanging up.

He got ready as quickly as he could and covered the mess of vines in his bed before dashing for the door. He would have to deal with that later. He didn't even have time to get himself together before the meeting. He'd just have to do it on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it's been a while. I've been busy and not feeling great. My migraines have been awful. I finally forced myself to write today despite the awful migraine I have so I'm sorry if it's terrible! 🖤


	7. Anything else

When Stiles pulled up to Derek's loft, he was sure he didn't look any less like shit than he had the last time Derek had seen him, but he didn't know how to hide that. He was sure he was losing his mind and he didn't have time for it. He would chalk it up to the pixie problem and hope the pack let it go. 

He stepped into the loft to hear the chatter of the pack fall silent as all eyes fell on him. Scott and Derek looked concerned while the rest looked either unsure or sympathetic.

Stiles braced for the reprimand from Derek for being late, but none came. Instead Derek nudged Scott forward.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Scott asked gently, as if Stiles were a wounded animal he was afraid to spook. 

Annoyance bubbled up in Stiles, he didn't need to be handled with kid gloves.

"Did you guys find anything?" he asked instead, pushing past Scott.

He missed the relief that washed over Derek. At least it wasn't just him, Stiles was denying help from.

"Yeah, you," Lydia crossed her arms over her chest, her tone not nearly as gentle as Scott's had been.

"Anything else," Stiles snapped.

"Anything else?" Derek stood from his spot abruptly, "Like finding you delirious and covered in your own blood with a message from the pixie wasn't enough?" His tone was sharp and his voice slightly louder than he normally carried it.

"I got more than you did, didn't I?" Stiles spit back.

"At what cost?" Scott stepped in; his tone still gentle. A stark contrast to Derek's.

"Look, I get it, you're all pissed. Can we move on?" Stiles huffed, throwing his arms up. He winced at the soreness of them. They felt like he'd been fighting against vines and roots all night.

"Are you hurt?" Scott had noticed the wince.

"Yeah, I'm really fucking sore." 

Not a lie.

"I slept on the floor of the woods for god knows how long."

Also not a lie.

"Look, I'm the last person to be sympathetic, but maybe cut him some slack. Yeah, he was where he shouldn't be, but are any of us really surprised? And he saw her. He's gotten more information than any of us and he went through hell to get it," Isaac piped up. His eyes glanced at Stiles briefly before then turning to Scott and Derek.

"He's right, we should worry more about what happens next," Cora agreed. She rarely spoke up in pack meetings. She felt they were pointless and just caused strife within the pack.

"Well, we didn't find anything, but I spoke to Deaton about the pixie clan. He said he didn't know of any local clans, but that he would reach out to a few contacts and let us know what he found," Scott spoke, his eyes on Stiles in a way that he knew to mean that he wasn't getting out of the conversation that easy.

"So we're not just dealing with one pixie, we're dealing with a whole clan?" Lydia huffed. She drug her hand over her face.

Stiles watched with horror as her hand slid down revealing the blackened eyes of the pixie and sharp features that weren't Lydia's. As her hand fell away from her face, her mouth was stretched into the horrid smile he'd seen the night before. The soft pale skin Lydia sported was now a sickly grey pale and her blushed cheeks were pinched up to make room for the too large mouth.

Stiles' breathe caught in his throat and he closed his eyes. He couldn't do this now. Why was this happening now?

He opened his eyes and Lydia's face was once again her own. He breathed out a sigh of relief but his mild panic had caught the attention of the wolves in the room.

"Stiles," Scott, who was standing closest to him, stepped forward worriedly.

"Lasting side effects...I think," Stiles shook his head. He honestly wasn't sure, so it wasn't technically a lie. He shook his head and dropped his eyes to his hands secretly counting them to be sure.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Scott offered gently, taking another step forward.

"No, I want come up with a plan," Stiles snapped his head back up, meeting Scott's eyes with his own tired ones.

"You're exhausted, dude," Scott put a hand on Stiles and instantly black veins began to seep up his arm,

"And you're in a lot of pain," Scott frowned as Stiles yanked back and away from Scott's touch.

"I told you I was. It's fine," Stiles snapped. His irritation was growing the more Scott crowded into his space.

"Stiles, what's going on with you. You've been absent lately and-"

"Did you do this?" Stiles cut in, his eyes shooting to Derek. "I told you I was fine when you asked. No need to sick Scott on me."

"I didn't," Derek growled, but his face showed the worry he was feeling for the human.

"Look, I'm gonna go home and try and figure out what I can about this pixie, call me if you find anything," Stiles turned to walk away but Derek spoke up again.

"Your dad sent me the victim's files. I thought you'd want to see them."

Stiles whipped around to face Derek, "He just gave them to you?"

"They're pertinent to our investigation. I assured him I'd return them when we were finished."

"Let me see them," Stiles stalked over to the table where the rest of the pack were at to see the files laid out neatly.

He instantly snatched up the most recent one and scanned through it.

Derek watched Stiles for the next hour as he scanned through the different files, comparing the different notes and looking at the pictures. 

The rest of the pack finished planning their next wood search and left. Leaving Derek, Scott and Stiles. 

Stiles laid out three pictures from three of the crime scenes and pointed, "What do you see?"

Derek and Scott looked over his shoulder. 

"They bled from their mouths," Derek pointed out.

"They're eyes are all open?" Scott shrugged.

"No, not about the bodies" Stiles pointed behind the body in one of pictures, to a bouquet of flowers in the background.

"Okay?" Scott shrugged again.

Stiles pointed to the next picture. Another bouquet.

"There all different though," Derek frowned as he looked at the third picture. One had roses, one lilies, and the other was assorted.

"But they could be from the same place. Last night, she looked normal, but then she didn't. What if she's fitting in and marking her victims and this is how she's finding them later. I read that Pixies can't get in unless you give them your full name. Paying for something would do that. And they're very attracted to meadowsweet." Stiles pointed to one of the white filler flowers, in each bouquet. "This looks like Meadowsweet."

Derek and Stiles exchanged worried glances.

"Stiles, you're a genius," Scott scrubbed the top of his head affectionately.

Derek looked down at the human with adoration in his eyes that went unnoticed by Stiles. 

They finally had a lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working with a broken finger, so bear with me!


	8. Worried

Stiles felt a hand land on his shoulder before he could reach the door to his jeep. With a sigh he turned to face Scott.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Scott looked at his best friend with concerned eyes. 

Stiles had to be careful what he said, Scott would be listening for a lie and if he knew Derek, the alpha was probably not far off, listening as well.

"There's just a lot going on. I want to get this pixie clan, or whatever we're dealing with, handled."

"What did she do to you?" Scott scanned his eyes over Stiles as if he could see the physical damage she had done.

"I...don't know. I wish I did," Stiles shrugged. That wasn't a lie.

"Derek says you've been having nightmares," Scott's tone shifted to a slightly guilty tone.

"So he did sick you on me," Stiles snapped, glaring up at the loft window, hoping Derek could see him.

"No, he's just worried about you and he said you wouldn't talk to him. You always talk to him," Scott had a look that told Stiles he was more concerned than normal because of that.

"He caught me at a bad time." Not a lie. "He needed to be worrying about the pixie instead of me."

"But you are having nightmares," Scott pressed when Stiles didn't deny them.

"It's nothing you-" He cut himself off. It was something Scott should worry about and if he said otherwise, the alpha would hear the lie. "Look, let's handle this pixie who is literally killing people, okay?" My nightmares aren't hurting anyone, he wanted to say, but unfortunately that would have been a lie.

"Okay, as long as you're sure you're alright," Scott watched Stiles' reaction carefully and he knew he was listening for any hint of a lie.

"A relative term, but Considering the circumstances..."

That seemed to be a good enough answer because Scott nodded with a soft smile. "Okay. Maybe don't keep Derek so in the dark. You know how he worries."

Stiles didn't say anything as he climbed into the jeep. Scott didn't need to know that he was keeping everyone in the dark. It was for the best though.

Derek watched as Stiles pulled away from the loft. He had known Derek was listening. He should have guessed Stiles would know. He also should have guessed that Stiles would be just as careful with his answers to Scott. He had cut himself off once, making the alpha wonder what he had been about to say. Had it been a lie or was he just reconfiguring his thoughts? Stiles was clever, too clever. He hadn't admitted to the nightmares, but he hadn't denied them. At least he knew that Stiles wasn't lying about whatever the pixie had done to him. He really didn't know. Somehow that didn't comfort Derek.

"Did you get the answers you wanted?" Scott asked from the doorway then, pulling the alpha from his thoughts.

"I wish he would talk about the nightmares. It's been so long since he's had them, why now?" Derek asked, not looking away from the disappearing jeep in the distance.

"Didn't seem like he wanted to talk about them."

"That's what worries me," Derek turned to face the other alpha finally.

"You think it's worth worrying about?" Scott frowned at Derek.

"I think he's not telling us everything," Derek ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh in the process.

"What would he be hiding?" 

"I don't know, that's what worries me. I thought maybe he knew more about this pixie than he was letting on but...I don't know," Derek took a seat on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together as if in prayer.

"Are you sure you aren't just being paranoid and worrying for nothing?" Scott offered gently. He worried for his best friend too, but he also trusted Stiles when he said he was alright. His heart hadn't skipped.

"Maybe, it just seemed like he was hiding something and the way he carefully picks his wording when he answers certain things, I just..." Derek trailed off.

"Look dude, I think you're just stressed, and Stiles being targeted by that pixie got to you. He's still recovering, maybe give him a few days and see how he's doing then. If he still seems off, we can talk to him together, deal?" 

Derek glared up at Scott, "You wanna corner Stiles? That'll end well."

Scott's shoulders sagged. "Then what do you wanna do? Cause he's not talking to you and he's not talking to me so..." he gestured a hand as if pointing to nonexistent options in the room.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Derek growled. "That's why I'm worried. The lack of talking is a bad sign."

"Okay, so what do we do?" Scott's impatience was growing with Derek's.

"I don't know," Derek snapped. "I really thought he would be comfortable enough to talk to one of us. I don't understand why he won't. I thought maybe I had done something wrong, but he won't talk to you either," he pushed to his feet with a huff.

"Maybe we should just give him a few days. Try again? He said you caught him at a bad time. Maybe today was a bad time too," Scott offered, but it was clear neither he nor Derek believed that.

"Sure," Derek nodded. He knew that agreeing would at least get Scott to leave which is all he wanted. He just needed to be alone right now. Knowing that something was wrong with a pack member and that he couldn't fix it drove him crazy. He guessed by the uneasy scent radiating off of Scott that he felt similarly. 

"Thank you for trying to talk to him anyway," Derek offered. "I'm sure he'll come around." 

It was empty words falling on deaf ears, but Scott gave a nod anyway. "Let me know if he says anything and I'll do the same."

"Thanks," Derek returned the nod as he watched Scott walk out. Neither one feeling any better about Stiles. If anything, they felt worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter for ya!


	9. Happened

It had been maybe thirty minutes since Scott had left and Derek was in the process of trying to talk himself out of going to talk to Stiles again. He knew it would be fruitless. The human didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anyone. That only made Derek feel a little bit better.

He was eyeing the discarded leather jacket on the couch when there was a knock at his door. He perked his ears to hear a gentle, even heartbeat. Not Stiles then. He inhaled and caught the smell of a familiar perfume. 

"It's open, Lydia," he called with a huff. He glanced about his loft in search of something she might have left behind. He didn't find anything though.

"Good, I was hoping you would be alone by now," Lydia smiled as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

Derek only frowned at her.

"Stiles and Scott stayed behind earlier," She reiterated as if he'd forgotten.

He continued to frown at her.

"I wanted to talk to you alone," She plopped her purse on the couch next to his leather jacket and took a seat urging Derek to sit next to her.

Derek opted to sit on the chair instead. Lydia pursed her lips in displeasure at his distance but didn't argue.

"I wanted to ask if something happened," She folded her hands in her lap and watched Derek carefully for any body language that might give him away.

"A lot has happened, Lydia, you might want to be more specific."

"I mean between you and Stiles," She clarified as if it were just everyday conversation.

Derek tensed which didn't go unnoticed by the red head.

When he didn't respond, she continued, "You two used to spend a lot of time together. He did most of his research here in fact. But it seems lately..." She trailed off when Derek dropped his head. She'd clearly hit a nerve.

He glanced at the recliner where Stiles was often sprawled with his computer. He thought about the pepsi's he started keeping in the fridge because Stiles always complained about bringing his own. 

"Did something happen?" Lydia asked again.

"No," Derek answered simply. As if it didn't hurt him to be talking about it. As if he didn't feel lonely without the human around.

"You two were...together though...weren't you?" Lydia asked, much more hesitantly.

This caused Derek's head to snap back up. "What?"

"We weren't sure the nature of your relationship. You two are always so guarded. We thought maybe you just didn't want to say anything yet," Lydia shrugged sheepishly, like she knew a deep dark secret she wasn't supposed to. Which maybe she did.

"No. It wasn't like that. We were just...friends," Derek shook his head, a frown embedded deep in his brows.

"Oh, so you guys didn't break up," Lydia seemed relieved.

"No," Derek growled. He didn't like the idea that the pack was speculating about he and Stiles' relationship.

"That's good news," Lydia leaned back in her seat a bit. "But wait, if you guys didn't break up. Why isn't Stiles coming around as much? Don't tell me one of you didn't feel the same way."

"What are you talking about? Lydia, nothing happened between Stiles and I. We're fine. He's just...something is up with him. He's pulling away from me and I don't know why. I've tried talking to him, but he won't talk to me. Scott has tried talking to him, but he insists he's fine. He's having nightmares and he's being careful with his wording so he doesn't get caught in a lie. Something is up but he won't talk about it," Derek rambled, the frustration evident in his tone.

Lydia hummed thoughtfully. "So he's hiding something. Do you think it has to do with the pixie?"

Derek only shrugged.

"You're really worried about him," Lydia leaned forward. It wasn't posed as a question, but Derek nodded anyway.

"You say you weren't dating, but you like him, don't you?" Lydia asked, though judging by her tone she already knew the answer.

Derek only glared at her.

"If it makes you feel any better, we were all rooting for you guys," Lydia gave a sad smile.

Derek's glare dropped as his eyes fell to the recliner once more.

"You love him," Lydia nodded, she knew that look. 

"I didn't mean to," Derek's voice was quiet, barely audible even in the quiet of his loft. "It just kind of happened."

Lydia smiled. It was somewhere between sad and sincere.

"Does he know?"

"I've never told him, but he's not dumb."

"You'd be surprised. Do you know he feels the same way?" 

"Sometimes I'm sure of it, but then, other times I think I'm just the alpha to him. And now... I don't think he could care less," Derek pulled his eyes from the recliner and back to Lydia.

"I would normally say you should talk to him, but it seems like that's not really an option at the moment. Whatever he's going through he's trying extra hard to keep you out of it," Lydia bit her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"What should I do?" Derek looked to the red head with a desperation she had never seen on his face before.

"I would say give him time and space but I'm worried. Giving him time and space might be dangerous. Cornering him might be the best option, I just don't know how. Give me a day to think on it. Maybe I can talk to him, get a little insight. Maybe he's just stressed about the Pixie's. His dad is human, and she is killing human's. I just don't understand why he wouldn't talk about that."

Derek nodded. He could give her a day.

"In the meantime, know that you have a pack that's there for you. I know you aren't great at the sharing thing, but you have people willing to listen," She reached over and placed a hand on his.

"Thank you," Derek had never seen Lydia as a comfort. She was intelligent and a little creepy when it came to dead bodies showing up around her. But seeing her in this light was nice. He was glad she stopped by.

"Also, when this is all over, you should absolutely tell Stiles how you feel," Lydia stood then, smoothing her skirt.

Derek cleared his throat awkwardly as he followed her to the door.

"Goodnight, Derek," She smiled before pulling open the door.

"Goodnight, Lydia," Derek nodded as she slipped out into the hallway.

He listened as her heels clicked down the stairs and realized he should have heard her coming before. He was so consumed with his thoughts of Stiles that Lydia had practically snuck up on him. That wasn't good. He needed to clear his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little insight into how Derek feels. Hope you like it.


	10. What you want

Stiles dropped his head into his hands, his fingers curled, tugging gently at the strands of hair they grasped. He was getting nowhere. He'd spent the last three hours researching dreams and the meanings behind them and sleep walking only to get nowhere. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for. Proof he wasn't crazy? He was beginning to think he was. He wanted to believe that whatever happened in the woods with the trees and Derek's face had been because of the pixie but he couldn't be sure. 

Exhausted from restless nights and tiring search, he decided to take a break. Maybe a small nap would be good. Perhaps he could get some restful sleep if it was just a short nap.

He laid down on the top of the covers and let his eyes fall closed, trying not to think of the past few days and how stressful they had been. Normally when he couldn't sleep, he'd go to Derek's and the two of them would talk. Or more likely he would talk, and Derek would listen. He'd grown to miss Derek. It had only been a few days, but it felt like years. The distance between them was painful. He knew Derek felt it too. It was best though, just until he figured out what was going on. He had to make sure no one else got hurt because of him.

As Stiles drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Derek in his mind, he hoped he'd dream of the alpha for once, instead of the horrid nightmares he had been as of late. Unfortunately, he didn't get so lucky.

The cool air whipped around Stiles as he stepped through the trees. He ran his hands over his arms, rubbing the cold skin, hoping the friction would give him warmth. As he stepped, his feet stung with the pricks of the underbrush, but he paid it no mind as his eyes caught sight of something in the distance.

His arms dropped to his sides and he stopped in place. The nemeton sat about fifty yards away a slight glow and gentle hum radiated from it. He was about to take a step when he heard a faint whisper coming from what felt like all around him. 

He turned to see if he could find the source of the sound but there was no one. Only trees, however, he noticed something odd about the trees. They weren't normal trees, they were dripping red. 

"No," Stiles whispered, he turned back to see the nemeton still in the distance. He bolted forward, ignoring the cold air on his skin and the sting under his feet. 

As he got closer the trees seemed to narrow, as if trying to block his path. 

The whispering grew louder. 

"Tinwe."

"I don't know what you want," he shouted, as he pushed forward, the trees all around him gushing with blood. He pushed his way through, his hands grasping at warm liquid, his feet slipping on warm wet roots. 

The closer he got the tighter the space between the trees grew.

"No," Stiles shouted, trying to push past one of the trees to get to the nemeton. His fingers clawed at bloody bark as it poured down the trunk, but he couldn't get past. He was trapped behind the trees.

"Please," Stiles slammed his fists on the tree trunk, splashing the blood, sending droplets onto his face. "Please tell me what you want from me."

"Tinwe," was the only response he got.

"Why is this happening?" Stiles turned to see the trees were now circled around him like a cage, the blood pouring steadily down the trunks seemingly from nowhere. 

"This is a dream, it's not real," Stiles tried to wipe the blood from his hands onto his pajama pants, "I just need to wake up."

Stiles took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. The whispers of 'Tinwe' continued over and over and then-

Stiles opened his eyes and shot up in bed, gasping for air, he looked around his now dark room. The sun had set.

Stiles looked down at his hands to see, by the small stream of moonlight, the dark red tinge of them.

"Oh god," Stiles pulled his shirt off and quickly wiped the blood from his feet and hands the best he could so as to not make a mess as he carefully made his way to the bathroom. 

He flipped on the light to see his face splattered in blood.

There was once a time when the sight of that might have made him sick, fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, experience had taken that response from him. Instead he tossed the bloody shirt into the trash, not bothering to try to salvage it. It wasn't worth the trouble, not when he had a bed to clean up.

He was just about to turn on the shower when his phone in his pocket buzzed. He pulled it out to see Derek's number calling. He didn't answer. He was a bit occupied, if it was important, he could leave a message. 

Stiles stripped down just as his phone buzzed again with a text. 

"Deaton's contact came through, the pixies want to meet right away, they're about three hours out, meet at the loft in ten."

Stiles let out a heavy sigh. He was not in the mindset to do that right now.

"Can't tonight, dad needs me, it's kind of an emergency, just remember what I said about them being manipulative. Don't make any deals."

The good thing about texting was he could lie and not get caught. 

"Is everything okay? We'll let you know how it goes when we get back. Could have really used you. Just Scott and I are going, if you need the pack."

"Yeah, he just hurt himself at work. Be careful."

Stiles tossed the phone onto the counter and stepped into the hot water. Getting out of that was easier than he thought. He felt guilty using his dad as a lie, but he was currently covered in blood and he doubted he could get it all cleaned in time to be at Derek's. He would just add it to the list of things he'd lied to Derek about.

At least now he knew the pixies weren't responsible for the bloody tree incident the other day. That meant that incident was tied to whatever was going on with him. He didn't know if that comforted him or worried him more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it!


	11. Wild Lands

Derek's fingers pressed into the steering wheel as he drove in unfamiliar territory. The Pixie clan was three hours outside of Beacon Hills in some remote place he'd never heard of. Thankfully, he had Scott to help navigate. Though judging by the scent of confusion and the way Scott kept flipping the map, he regretted letting him have the responsibility.

"Ah ha, we're almost there, just a few more miles," Scott nodded confidently as he pointed at a spot Derek couldn't see on the map.

Derek didn't respond, only gripping the wheel tighter.

"Are you nervous?" Scott asked, glancing at the other alpha.

"I just wish Stiles were here. He's better at this kind of thing."

Scott nodded, a frown tugging at his features. "He didn't say what happened to his dad?"

"No, but I assume if it was too serious you would have heard." That had been the only solace in hearing the news that Stiles was needed due to an issue with his father.

"Yeah, I know, I just hope he's okay. It seems like he's taking on a lot by himself lately," Scott shrugged.

Derek was afraid if he gripped the steering wheel any tighter it might snap. 

"We should discuss what we're going to say. The information Stiles found on Pixies said they're clever with their words and manipulative, so we should be careful," Derek changed the subject. "Stiles also told me not to make any deal with them."

"No deal? But what if that's the only way out of this?"

Derek pressed his head back into his seat, letting out a gentle growl. He really wished Stiles was there.

"We're gonna have to think like Stiles," Scott said thoughtfully.

Derek gave Scott an incredulous look. "Nobody thinks like Stiles."

"No, but if there's anyone who knows best it's us," Scott shrugged.

Derek turned back to the road, a new ache in his chest.

"I know that whatever is going on with Stiles is hard on you, but Lydia said it had nothing to do with you personally so take comfort in that, yeah?" Scott offered gently.

Derek shot him a glare. 

Scott had never tried to comfort Derek before, and it was strange. 

"Look, I know it took us a while to become friends, but Stiles is clearly important to both of us and-"

"Don't," Derek snapped. He wasn't in the mood to hear whatever supportive pep talk Scott had planned.

"Let's just get through this meeting with our heads still intact shall we? And let's not forget how dangerous they are as one in our territory. We're going into the lion's den."

"I think I'd actually feel more comfortable going into a lion's den," Scott sighed, earning a chuckle and a smirk from Derek.

However, the smile didn't last long as the gnarled winding tree that Deaton had given them as a landmark came into view.

"We're close. Deaton said to park here and that we'd know it when we see it," Scott glanced at Derek.

The two alphas hesitated briefly before climbing out of the car. The abandoned dirt road they'd been following had stretched on for several miles and looked like it continued on for several more in front of them. But now they were deviating from the road and heading into the woods.

The two trekked in silence, with their sensed heightened as they walked deeper into the wooded forest. There was nothing special about the forest. The trees were tall, and the ground was blanketed in moss and leaves. There was nothing that shouted 'Pixie' to them.

After about a forty-minute hike through Derek was growing impatient when Scott grabbed his arm and pointed.

Derek looked slightly to his left to see between two normal trees was a large circle of branches wrapped and twisted into each other like the beginnings of a wreath. Wrapped carefully around and thinly was a vine of leaves much too vibrant to be natural. The green of the leaves was almost emerald in color, twisting until they were suddenly the brightest of ruby's, before abruptly ending in a gold that almost shimmered like the metal itself. 

"That's not subtle at all," Derek frowned. He'd expected them to be better hidden so as not to be stumbled upon.

"Subtly is not needed. We are blind to the eyes of which do need to see us," A voice spoke suddenly from behind Derek and Scott causing them both to turn abruptly.

Behind them was a woman. Pointy looking. Pale. Short hair with flowers and twigs woven through it. She wore a simple white dress. 

"What does that mean?" Scott asked.

"Humans. They pass through as if there is nothing, for there is nothing to see."

"Supernatural only," Derek nodded in understanding.

"Come, she awaits you," the woman motioned her hands in a circle in front of the large wreath looking doorway. It lit up and suddenly a bright light emitted from the middle, making it impossible to see through.

The pixie woman stepped through and disappeared.

Scott and Derek exchanged uncertain glances before following suit.

Derek wasn't sure what he expected, but the extremely vibrant colors of everything wasn't it. They had stepped into another forest, only this one was alive with color in such a way that it almost made his eyes ache. The browns of the trees were even beautiful. 

"Welcome to the Wild Lands as your people know it," The pixie spoke, "This way."

Scott and Derek followed after, still marveling how everything seemed so radiant.

"Ah, Alpha's, welcome to Verca Ettele," Another voice less soft and gentle spoke now, pulling Derek and Scott's attention from the surrounding nature.

They were still outside, only in what looked to be a courtyard, there were stone walls though short and lined in ivy, though not any kind Derek had seen. In the middle sat a chair made of moss so vibrant the woman on top wouldn't have stood out if it weren't for her practically illuminating outfit of white.

"Oh, uh..." Derek awkwardly bowed, and nudged Scott to do the same thing. 

Scott hurriedly followed suit.

"You are alone," the woman spoke again.

Derek and Scott straightened up and frowned.

"Were you expecting more of us?" Derek asked. He'd deliberately left the pack behind.

The Pixie, now that he could see her better, had long black hair, ribbons of ivy twined through it. Her skin just as pale as the one who had led them here and features just as sharp.

She narrowed her dark eyes, "I was expecting your..." She paused as if trying to think of the correct word. "Tinwe."


	12. Lies

Derek and Scott exchanged confused glances at the unfamiliar term. When it was clear neither knew what the pixie was talking about, Derek spoke up. 

"I'm afraid I don't know to what you're referring," He answered impatiently, though he tried to hide it behind a forced half smile.

"Interesting," The Pixie hummed before waving her hand, "I am Elbereth, I have been told you come to me with news of one of my own."

Derek nodded, "Yes, one of your own is in our territory. They are killing innocent people. They cornered one of my pack members, told him to inform us that she was killing in the name of her clan. The Aredhel Clan. We have tried to capture and...even kill her but with no luck."

Elbereth stood, her soft features pulling back to reveal her true form for but a moment as anger seethed out of her. Her already dark eyes grew black and her teeth completely sharp. 

"We do not kill for sport. We kill with purpose and intent. We have no qualms with your kind. Where did you learn of our clan name?" Elbereth demanded.

"She gave it to us," Scott piped in then sensing Derek's growing frustration. 

"She gave it to you?" Elbereth narrowed her eyes which were now back to normal.

At that moment two smaller pixies appeared next to Derek and Scott and led them forward to where a small stone table sat, and tea was being poured in small cups.

Chairs were shoved under Derek and Scott, forcing them to sit.

"That's better," Elbereth smiled, placing her cup in her lap as she took her own tea that was handed to her.

Derek glared down at the tea.

"Don't worry there is no aconite in the brew," She assured them.

They still didn't move to take a sip, however.

"You're not going to drink it?" Elbereth practically snarled.

Lydia's words popped into Derek's head. 

"Stiles mentioned something about them getting offended really easily so like compliment them a lot and just don't offend them okay?"

Derek lifted the small cup to his mouth and hoped to everything that it wasn't poison.

Scott gave him a wide-eyed look that Derek knew to mean 'what the hell are you doing?'

The flavor of a tea that Derek couldn't place hit his tongue. It was mildly bitter and yet flowery with a hint of citrus. It would be pleasant if there weren't six set of eyes watching him as if waiting for him to keel over.

No one said anything for a long moment, and he realized they were waiting on him to say something.

"The citrus after flavor is very refreshing," He smiled nervously.

Elbereth nodded, pleased. 

"Now you say that my own told you of our clan?" She asked him, getting back to the conversation.

"Yes," Derek nodded.

Elbereth hissed. "Lies."

One of pixies that had led Derek and Scott to the table spoke up, "My lady, he speaks truth. No lies spill from his lips. We have made sure it cannot be so."

Elbereth stood for the first time, her dress falling down around her as she walked down to stand in front of the wolves.

"Tell me that that my own did not tell you this. Let me hear you lie," Elbereth demanded, her eyes black as coal once again and her teeth sharp as needles once more.

Derek glanced at Scott, but he sat straight, trying not to look too threatening as he did so and did as she asked.

"The pixie did not tell us of your clan na-" Derek immediately doubled over and started to choke. Blood gurgled from his mouth and onto the ground next to him.

Scott jumped to his feet and rushed to Derek's side. "What did you do to him?"

Elbereth hissed as she turned away in exasperation. 

"Fix him," Scott demanded, his hands gripping Derek as he continued to choke.

Elbereth snapped her fingers and suddenly Derek was no longer choking. Instead he was gasping for air.

"What the hell was that?" Derek growled, wiping blood from his lips.

"The tea. It makes you choke on your lies. I had to make sure it worked."

Derek's jaw clenched. His patience was gone.

"We came to you for help. She spoke your name and we sought you out instead of declaring war on your clan. Why would I lie?" Derek snapped standing up. He didn't care if he looked threatening anymore.

"My lady, as your adviser, might I remind you of Mirielle?" The pixie that stayed by Elbereth's side spoke up quietly, but Derek and Scott heard anyway.

"Oh Mirielle," Elbereth sighed up into the sky. She turned back to Derek and Scott. Her features soft once again.

She smiled kindly and if she hadn't just made Derek choke on his own blood she would seem like a sweet lady.

"We have one of our own that was cast out, it seems she has decided to take vengeance on us by killing in our name. We are fortunate that instead of declaring war you have chosen to speak with us reasonably. Because of this we would like to offer you a trade of favors."

Derek frowned. "What kind of favors?"

"You two are out of balance without your emissary, your land must be in chaos. I can sense it on you. There is a ritual you can do to bring balance to it. All three of you must be there. In exchange for this ritual spell, you will bring us our rogue member and let us deal with her how we see fit."

Scott spoke up next. "We don't have an emissary."

Derek nudged Scott and whispered, "Deaton." He looked to Elbereth then. "What we need is a way to catch her."

Elbereth snapped her fingers and one of her servants rushed off.

"I will give you a powder, dragonfly breath. When released into the air it will knock out anyone fey within a thirty-foot radius. It only lasts for ten seconds. Use it wisely, it's very rare. Iron will hold her after that. Good luck."

The servant returned then with a small leather pouch and handed it to Scott. 

"Thank you."

"When you return with her. I will give you the spell to bring balance to your land. Until then, watch your tinwe. You reek of chaos."

Before Derek or Scott could press for further information, they were being ushered away and towards the exit they had entered in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it


	13. Sorry

Stiles pushed open his front door almost running smack into his dad.

"Stiles," His dad's tone was concerned and relieved at the same time.

"Hey dad, on your way to work?" Stiles asked.

"No, I was coming to check on you cause you weren't answering your phone," Noah frowned glancing at the clock. It was almost ten p.m. He'd been at work for hours. Stiles should have known that.

"Oh, yeah my phone died a couple hours ago. I was out looking for the pixie again," Stiles gave a tired shrug. His stomach twisted at the lie. But his dad was the only person he could lie to easily nowadays.

"Derek called me about an hour ago. Said you told him there was an emergency with me that kept you from going with him and Scott to some meeting?" Noah crossed his arms in the way he did when he'd caught Stiles in a lie.

Stiles froze. "Why would he call you?" His heart started to race. 

"He wanted to make sure I was alright, and he couldn't get a hold of you," Noah gave Stiles a look that said he wanted an explanation. And that he wanted the truth.

The spot where the splinter was started to itch and burn. Stiles tried to push down the anxiety he was feeling but it was creeping up his spine like a winding vine threating to choke him.

"Derek and I got into a fight. I didn't feel like fighting with him again. It seems like that's all we do lately," Stiles shrugged, trying to fight the pain crawling up his arm.

Noah narrowed his eyes.

"Scott took his side."

"What was the fight about?" Noah pressed; his arms still crossed over his chest.

Stiles blinked then as he noticed an old weathered looking vine creep over his father's shoulder slowly wrapping around his neck.

He cleared his throat and glanced down at the floor. When he looked up the roots were now cinching tighter.

"Well?" Noah pressed impatiently.

"They-" Stiles' voice waivered. This isn't real. It couldn't be. "They want to sideline me on this pixie thing cause I'm human and she targets humans," Stiles answered, dropping his eyes to his feet again. It wasn't exactly a lie. They had fought about that, sort of. 

Noah gave a sympathetic smile, his arms falling by his side. "I know it's hard, but they're just worried about you. As am I. Especially when your phone is dead."

Stiles glanced up and his anxiety slowly started to subside as his dad's tension subsided. 

The vines gently began to unclench from around the sheriff's throat. 

Stiles' shoulder's slumped in relief.

"Sorry," he really did feel bad about letting his phone die. That hadn't been intentional.

"I suggest getting it charged up. And getting some rest. You look like you haven't slept in days," Noah put a hand on his son's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

"Okay," Stiles nodded. "Sorry about using you as an excuse."

"Don't apologize to me. Derek knows I'm fine so, maybe you should give him a call," Noah gave another sympathetic squeeze before releasing Stiles.

Stiles swallowed. He wasn't looking forward to that talk.

"I have to get back to work, I'll see you tomorrow?" Noah asked walking out onto the porch.

"Yeah," Stiles nodded.

He watched as his dad walked to his car and climbed in before closing the door.

He let out an exhausted groan. His hunt for the nemeton had once again been fruitless. And now he was hallucinating again. He drug himself up the stairs and to the shower, plugging in his phone on the way.

When he was finally clean and dressed, his phone was pinging with all the missed calls and texts from his dad, Derek and Scott.

He decided to handle them in the morning. He was too tired to bother with them tonight. 

-

Stiles opened his eyes as the smell of smoke and heat filled his nostrils. Warmth pressed too firmly to his back. He blinked to get his eyes to focus on the darkness above him. It was just dark though. Until he realized the dark was sky. The night sky. 

He twisted his head to see he was in a clearing. Surrounded by a forest of cut down trees. The nemeton in the distance. He tried to sit up but his legs and arms were tied. He was tied to a table of some sort. He tried to look around him more, but his vision began to be clouded by too much smoke. As his back began to grow warmer and warmer he realized the smoke was coming from fire.

Slowly fire began to lick at the sides of the table he was on, making clear the wooden planks tethered together. Making clear the pyre he was bound to. 

His heartrate picked up as he began to struggle against his binds. They were tight, only succeeding in biting into his skin.

As the fire grew up around him, growing hotter, he could hear the quiet hiss of the word, "Tinwe."

Stiles let out a tearful shout, "I don't know what that means."

The fire only continued to grow, the hissing growing louder. Each lick of flame singing his skin.

Stiles fought, crying out for help, begging for an explanation. His skin only burned in response.

Finally, he closed his eyes, "It's a dream. Wake up. Wake up, damn it. Wake up!" He shouted out in desperation.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in his room, on his bed. His skin burned like he was still on the pyre. Tears were streaming down his face. 

He wanted to move but the pain was too much. A sob wracked from his body. This wasn't blood or dirt that he could just wash away evidence of. He glanced down to see his arms bright red and black from the burns and soot.

He let out a chocked sob as he wished he could just magically heal the wounds like Derek or Scott. 

Suddenly his skin began to tingle. A cool breeze washed over him, and he could practically feel his burns melting away. He moved his arm to test the pain and it was gone. He glanced down and sure enough the burn was as if it had never been there.

He bolted up and he glanced down at his singed pajama pants. Yanking them off he grabbed for another fresh pair as he fumbled for his phone.

It was official, he was crazy. He had completely lost it. But it was going to kill him, and he couldn't handle it anymore. Not alone.

He pressed the dial button and was already heading down the stairs.

He was already in his jeep before a voice picked up on the other end sounding groggy.

"Hello?"

A fresh set of sobs ripped from Stiles' chest, "Derek,I-I need you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm the worst human being ever, I'm sorry I haven't updated sooner! Didn't realize how long it'd been!


	14. Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay sorry guys, would have gotten this up sooner but as some of you may know Supernatural ended the other day and well I have been what you call "coping" and by that I mean not at all so...anyway I'm sorry if it's shit.

Derek's voice was instantly awake, "Stiles, what is it? What's wrong? I'm coming over."

Stiles could hear rustling in the background as Derek hurried out of bed, gathering any necessary clothing and keys he may need.

"No, don't," Stiles tried to keep the tears at bay so he could see the road ahead of him. It was late, or well early, and the roads were bare thankfully.

"Stiles..." Derek's tone was pleading, and Stiles knew he was about to insist.

"I'm already on my way," Stiles sniffed. He wiped at one of his eyes trying to clear the tears gathered so he could see the now blurring road better.

"Oh, okay. Are you in any condition to drive?" Derek's tone was calmed briefly before filling with worry once more.

"I-I can't be home right now," Stiles needed to be out of his room, away from where each and every nightmare haunted him. He didn't even know if he could call them nightmares. The smell of smoke in his nose told him that they weren't. The remaining stings of where the fire licked at his skin told him, they weren't.

"Can you..." Derek started, his voice gentle, as if coaxing a wounded animal. Little did he know. "Can you tell me what this is about?"

"I'm sorry I lied to you about my dad," Stiles sobbed out.

The line was quiet for a moment. Was that all this was about? Stiles feeling guilty? That didn't add up.

"I lied because I didn't want to go. I know it was important, but I had other things I needed to do, and I didn't want you to know about it."

Derek remained silent.

"Scott doesn't know either," Stiles added as if that might help soften the blow. "Nobody does."

"Does this have anything to do with the pixies?" Derek asked, finally breaking the silence on his end of the line.

Stiles shook his head though Derek couldn't see, causing a few more tears to fall. "No."

Derek fell silent once more. He wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to ask if it had to do with the nightmares coming back but Stiles was already in an unstable condition to be driving. He didn't want to say the wrong thing to set him off until he was safe inside his loft.

"I wanted to tell you, but I...I..." Stiles fell silent. 

"It's okay," Derek tried to hide the disappointment in his tone. Knowing Stiles didn't want him to know about whatever he was going through kind of hurt, especially if it was the nightmares. They had helped each other get through many a sleepless night.

The comforting rumble of Stiles' jeep made Derek breathe out in relief. He was close. 

"Stiles, I hear the jeep, I'm gonna hang up and make us that tea we used to have when you would come over after a nightmare okay?" Derek's tone was still gentle.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed around a sniffle. His crying had slowed some.

When Derek hung up, he ran his hand through his hair and pulled on the shirt he'd grabbed in his haste to leave. 

He flicked on the lamp in the living room and made his way to the kitchen to put on the old herbal tea his mother used to make for him and his sisters when they would have nightmares as a kid. She'd taught Laura how to make it when she got old enough and Laura had taught him after the fire. He made it for Stiles one night when he came over and it became a special thing they shared together on bad nights.

Just as he turned on the electric kettle, he heard the jeep's door open and close.

Derek had comforted Stiles after a nightmare many times. He'd seen him beaten, bruised, bloody, sobbing, the whole nine. However, nothing could prepare him for the state Stiles was in when he walked through Derek's door.

Derek's back straightened as a distinct smell hit his nose just before the door opened. He whipped around as Stiles stepped into his loft to see the human looking wrecked. His hair stood on end. His eyes were puffed with tears and he shook like a scared chihuahua. But that isn't what froze Derek in place. It was the soot that streaked his face and arms. It was the distinct smell of smoke and fire that radiated off of the human.

"Stiles," Derek's voice cracked. He blinked trying to erase the vision in front of him, but it refused to leave.

"I don't know what's happening to me Derek," Stiles bit on his bottom lip.

"Happening?" Derek frowned, forcing his feet forward. "Was there a..." Derek's words caught in his throat.

He reached Stiles and took his hand, which was clutching a piece of plaid clothing, "Stiles."

"I think I'm going crazy," Stiles tried to hold back a sob, but he was failing. He flung himself into Derek, clutching his waist as he sobbed into his chest.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and tried to ignore the smell. The familiar smell. He'd gotten used to the smell of smoke and fire over the years, however, to smell it mingled with Stiles' scent, it made Derek's stomach roll and his chest ache.

The sound of the kettle going off gave Derek a reason to pull Stiles back. "Let's...why don't you shower...and I'll finish making the tea...and then you can explain...everything."

"Okay," Stiles sniffed. He felt like an idiot crying into Derek's chest like that, but he couldn't bring himself to care, he was losing his mind anyway.

Derek forced himself to concentrate on the tea and not on the fact that Stiles had come to him in that state. He just couldn't get the scent out of his nose. Had Stiles been burned? He didn't have any burns on him thank goodness. 

Derek's hands shook as he poured the water over the tea. He braced himself on the counter, he had to be strong for Stiles right now. It was not the time to lose it.

"I hung the towel up on the back of the door. Thanks for the clothes."

Stiles' voice actually startled Derek. He snapped his head up and turned to face the human.

"Tea's almost ready," Derek answered sharply. He didn't like being caught off guard and he was so in his own head, he'd let Stiles sneak up on him. 

Stiles was no longer crying, and the soot was off of him.

"Stiles, what happened?" Derek asked desperately. He needed to know.

Stiles' eyes dropped to the floor. He fiddled with the edges of the long-sleeved shirt Derek had left for him, the sleeves were a bit too long.

"So, for the past week, I've been having...dreams...except they're not really dreams. I mean they are cause I fall asleep and they happen but then I wake up in my bed but there's always evidence of the dream."

Derek waited patiently for Stiles to continue but his brows were furrowed in confusion.

"The first night I dreamt of these weird splinters and I woke up and I had like a hundred. And then I dreamt I was underground, and I had to dig my way out and when I woke up there was dirt all in my bed and all over me. And that kept happening. Well tonight...I dreamt I was tied to a pyre and when I woke up...I was covered in burns. I couldn't move it was so bad. I just remember closing my eyes and wishing I could heal like you and...I did. Those pants I brought, were the pajama pants I was wearing. They're all burned and singed. I was afraid you wouldn't believe me because the burns were just...gone."

Derek stared at Stiles with frown. There had to be more to this. "Okay, I feel like for someone as detail oriented as you, you left out a lot."

"There's so much, Derek," Stiles buried his head in the paws of Derek's shirts.

"Well the tea is done, let's sit down and you tell me every detail? We need to figure this out."

Stiles agreed as he made his way to the couch. It was just like always. He and Derek at three in the morning having tea and talking about shitty nightmares. It was strange how much more this felt like home than his own room lately. 


	15. Tinwe

Derek's hands gripped his now cold tea as he sat patiently next to Stiles. Listening to every detail of the past week. How could Stiles keep this from him? From Scott? 

"I need to find the nemeton, I need to know what it wants from me, cause these...dreams...they can't be just dreams, right? I mean..." Stiles looked down at his hands as if he could see the evidence of them.

"You've researched it?" Derek asked stupidly. Of course Stiles had researched it, this was Stiles.

"I tried, but this isn't the sort of thing google just has the answer to," Stiles dropped his eyes to his own tea, that was left untouched on the table. 

Derek's brows furrowed. He didn't know what to say, he didn't have the answers. He hated not knowing how to help his pack much less Stiles. He could smell the sadness, the worry, the confusion, and most of all the fear.

"Stiles, I-," Derek cut himself off. He didn't know how to tell Stiles he didn't know what was going on. 

"Oh, wait," Stiles lifted his eyes to meet Derek's again, "There's another thing. In my dreams, there's whispers. Sometimes it's hard to hear but this last one I'm sure it said the word tinwe or something. I don't know, maybe I'm just looking for it, but- "

"What did you say?" Derek cut in, setting his cup down with a clank on his glass table, not caring about the sloshing of cold tea that dipped over the side.

"What? What is it?" Stiles asked, confused by Derek's sudden interest. 

"That word, what did you say it was?" Derek was already on his feet and moving to the corner of the room to his desk.

"Tinwe, I think," Stiles frowned after Derek, before carefully standing to follow him.

"When Scott and I went to meet the pixie's, the leader or whatever said something about that," Derek typed quickly into the search bar of his laptop.

"What did she say?"

"She was expecting more than just Scott and I. She said she was expecting our tinwe. But she dismissed it and we moved on. But then later on, just before we left, she said to watch our tinwe and that we reeked of chaos."

Stiles bit on his bottom lip with a thoughtful hum, "Tinwe. Could it be their language?"

"I think that's exactly what it is," Derek pointed at his computer screen where he had an old lore page on elvish translation pulled up with the word tinwe. Next to it the words, to sparkle; or spark.

Stiles' mouth dropped open and his chest grew heavy with each breath he took.

"You said you made the burns heal?" Derek asked, looking at Stiles curiously.

Stiles only nodded.

"Stiles, I think you're a spark."

"So, what, the nemeton is trying to ignite it by catching me on fire?" Stiles snapped, taking a step back and away from Derek. Away from the computer. Maybe it was wrong. It was one source. His rule was three different sources. You can't trust the internet. 

Derek sensed Stiles' panic. His heart rate rose, and his scent spiked.

"Stiles..." Derek stood slowly, his hands up. "It's okay."

"I can't be a, a, a, spark, I'm just a human. I can't do..." He flailed his arms, "Magic."

Instantly the sting in his arm where the splinter had been, began to flare.

Stiles yanked up his sleeve and thought there was only the small cut that refused to heal, it stung like he was being stabbed.

"Stiles, hey, look at me," Derek pulled Stiles' attention from his arm. "You're tired, why don't you stay here for the rest of the night. We can talk to Scott tomorrow. Okay? He should really know what's going on too. Okay? Let's figure this out together. Maybe we can talk to Deaton." 

Stiles let Derek close in on him and place a gentle hand on each shoulder.

Stiles swallowed but nodded. "Okay." Slowly the pain faded from his arm.

He pulled the sleeve back down and hugged his arms around himself. 

"Come on," Derek led Stiles to the spare room. Really it was Stiles' room. He was the only one that ever stayed in it. Derek had picked out the colors and decorations with Stiles in mind. Though it was simple it was comforting for the human. Similar color blues to his own room, but with forest decorations to make remind him that he was in Derek's home. 

Once they had said goodnight and parted for the night, Stiles couldn't help but stare at one particular picture on the wall. It was of a vine winding up a large tree in the middle of the woods. Most nights it was soothing for Stiles to allow his eyes to trail over the vines, but tonight he recalled the vines that had wrapped around his father's throat as they spoke. 

Stiles closed his eyes and forced himself not to think of that. Instead he concentrated on Derek. He was back in Derek's loft, doing their routine again. Derek wasn't mad. He wasn't alone anymore.

The comfort of that somehow allowed for him to find sleep.

When he woke however, it was cold and damp. Stiles went to sit up but a tug at his arm that was sprawled above him kept him in place. A sharp pain shot up the cut where the splinter was. He tried to move his other arm to lift himself, it moved freely. He gripped at the damp paper ground to find he was lying on wet leaves. 

He tried again to pull his other arm, but the pain felt like tiny barbs pulling beneath his flesh. Looking up he could see, by the full moon looming above him, a wall of bramble vines. On those vines were tiny little blue flowers. Sprouting slowly only where the moonlight hit.

Stiles could feel the vine winding into his skin through the cut in his arm. He tried to pull away, but the leaves slipped beneath him and his arm was held in place by the vines. 

He reached out with his free arm and yanked on the vine pulling with all his might, but it only caused more vines to lash out. They forced their way into the back of his hands and into his wrists. He cried out.

Glancing over his shoulder he saw the glow of the nemeton only thirty feet from him.

"Tinwe." It whispered ominously into the darkness around him.

"No. Do you hear me. No," He shouted, still fighting the vines. "I'm no spark."

As if reacting to his words, the vines twisted tighter, blood seeping from the fresh wounds.

Stiles clenched his eyes shut at the pain. "Wake up. Just wake up."

Stiles' eyes opened just as Derek pushed open his bedroom door.

Derek froze halfway to the bed when he caught the smell of blood. What little moonlight was streaming in the window allowed him to see the full extent of the dream's effects. There were vines with tiny aconite flowers protruding from Stiles' veins in his hands and wrists. Blood trickled down his arms and onto the sheets. 

Stiles took in deep heaving breaths, and there were tears in his eyes as he looked up at Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it!💚


	16. Like this

Derek slowly made his way towards Stiles.

"Don't, it's wolfsbane," Stiles shook his head as he tried to wipe the aconite flowers from his skin. He winced as he pulled on a vine that was still protruding from the back of his hand.

"It's fine, I'll be okay," Derek assured Stiles as he continued to near the human.

Stiles tried to pull at the vine, but it wound so far up, he felt the pull midway up his forearm. He let out a whimper before stopping. It hurt too much. It felt like fire and blades were pulling through his insides.

"You didn't leave," Derek looked down at the blood and the vines. How had this happened? He knew Stiles hadn't left. For one Derek had put the alarm on the front door just in case Stiles had been sleep walking. And for another, it had barely been an hour; not nearly enough time for Stiles to have gone anywhere.

"This is how it always is," Stiles looked up at Derek with tear filled eyes.

"Let me help you," Derek sat on the edge of the bed, causing it to dip with his weight.

"It hurts," Stiles looked down at the vine in his skin. He knew it would hurt like hell, but at least he wasn't alone. It felt so nice to not be alone.

"Take my hand," Derek put his left hand out for Stiles to hold.

The human gingerly took hold of it. Instantly the veins in Derek's hand turned black as he pulled Stiles' pain.

"Squeeze if you need to," Derek's tone was gentle, and his touch was slow and careful. He grabbed onto the vine with his right hand, pausing to eye Stiles, who had his face scrunched in anticipation.

Derek rubbed his thumb along the back of Stiles' hand before giving a quick yank.

Stiles let out a sharp cry as the vine tore through his flesh.

"I'm sorry," Derek covered the wound with his hand, wishing he'd gotten something to stop the bleeding beforehand. Blood seeped through his fingers, causing nausea to wash over him. Blood didn't bother him, but Stiles' blood...on his hands...that was something else entirely.

"Thank you," Stiles opened his eyes just as a tear slipped down his cheek.

Derek reached up and with a non-bloodied knuckle, caught the tear.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Derek stood, not letting go of Stiles' hand, forcing him to follow.

Derek led him to the bathroom. He turned on the sink and put Stiles' hand under the water once it was warm enough, rinsing the blood from both of their hands.

"I'm gonna get something to stop the bleeding, I'll be right back."

Stiles didn't answer as Derek left him alone. He let the water run over his hands, washing the blood down the drain. 

He looked up to see his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were dark and sunken from lack of sleep. Sweat was gathered on his brow. There were fresh tear stains on his cheeks. And his skin was paler than normal, even under the florescent lights. He looked, all in all, like hell. 

Derek rounded the corner then and Stiles was reminded of how gorgeous he was, even in the middle of the night with little sleep. His hair was still in a neat disarray on his head. His skin shined gold despite the shitty lighting. However, his eyes didn't have the same brightness they often held nowadays. They were dark and distant. They reminded Stiles of when he'd first met Derek. 

"You're upset."

Stiles hadn't intended to say those words. They just sort of tumbled out of his mouth.

Derek met Stiles' eyes in the mirror, "I'm worried," Derek corrected.

"This is why I didn't tell you," Stiles dropped his eyes to the sink, pulling his hands free from the water.

"No, please don't take it as a burden on me. It's not. I'm glad you told me. I'm just worried about you. I don't like to see you hurt," Derek insisted as he reached for Stiles' hands. He wrapped the gauze he'd found around the hand Derek had pulled the vine from. The bleeding had minimized some. He then placed a few bandages over the remaining wounds.

"I'm glad you're here," Stiles spoke quietly, not meeting Derek's eyes.

"Stay in my room, your sheets will need to be washed," Derek nodded towards the bed as he finished bandaging Stiles' hands.

"But what about you?" Stiles frowned, his eyes finally looking up.

"I'll be next to you, so at the first sign of a nightmare, I can wake you," Derek glanced at the bloodied and vine covered bed.

Stiles didn't argue as Derek led him out by the small of his back.

"Peroxide will get the blood stains out, just so you know," Stiles said avoiding the mess of the bed.

Derek smirked a bit, "You would know that."

A small smile tugged at Stiles' own lips as they left the room.

Derek's bed was bigger than his, though the bedsheets were a similar dark blue color. 

"Can I get you anything?" Derek offered, before pulling back the covers on the side Derek hadn't been sleeping in.

"I'm okay," Stiles shook his head.

"Okay, I'll be right back," Derek gave a curt nod before escaping out the door.

He made his way back to Stiles' room and pulled the covers off the bed wrapping the vine inside. He brought them out to the balcony and dumped the mess into a trashcan. He shook out the vines and watched as small blue flowers floated out and into the trash.

Closing the lid, he turned to glance at the darkened sky. He took a deep breath. It was so hard to see Stiles like this. He wanted nothing more than to hold the human and tell him he was safe. But it wasn't his place. Now he was going to be sharing a bed with Stiles and had to resist the urge to pull him close. Not that he was even sure holding him would keep the nightmares away. Could he even call them nightmares? Nightmares didn't leave blood trails or conjure vines.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he stepped back inside, dumping the sheets into the wash before joining Stiles.

Stiles was curled into himself at the edge of Derek's bed when he entered.   
He slid in beside him, turning out his lamp as he went. 

Laying in the dark, Derek heard the silent sobs coming from the human next to him. Unable to stand it, he reached and turned Stiles over. 

"We'll figure this out, I promise," Derek spoke quietly, as he pulled Stiles into him.

Stiles tensed at first, but then he relaxed into Derek's arms and chest and let himself cry.

Derek laid in the dark, wide awake, holding Stiles until he fell asleep. Once Derek was sure Stiles was asleep, he leaned down and whispered into the top of Stiles' hair.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this...me holding you...never like this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of a soft chapter for you guys. Hope you like it.


	17. Cold

A dark cold crept into Stiles' mind as he laid in bed. The cold seeping into his bones and crushing his lungs. He shivered and tried to wrap his arms around himself for warmth, but there was resistance. Slow resistance, like he was treading his arms through water to get to himself. His eyes snapped open and all he could see was darkness. He tried to turn but there was water surrounding him. 

Instantly he realized the crushing of his lungs was from lack of breath. He looked down to find more darkness. He turned his head to look up next expecting more darkness but there was the shimmer of a light, moonlight maybe?

Stiles fought to make his way to the surface he pushed and pushed and kicked his feet, trying to get there before his lungs exploded.

He breached the surface and sucked in a deep breath of cold night air. Looking around he saw he was in a pool, the pool from his old school, but it was in the middle of the woods.

He pulled himself onto the side and glanced around. What was he doing here? How had he gotten here?

"Stiles," Derek's voice forced him to turn around.

"Derek?" Stiles shouted as Derek fell into the water.

"Derek," Stiles dove back into the pool as the alpha began to sink. Why was he skinking? 

Stiles swam as quickly as he could through the water, fighting to get to Derek as the cold threatened to freeze his muscles.

He reached Derek and fought to pull them both to the surface. De ja vu washed over Stiles as he breached the surface one again. Why was this so familiar?

"I can't move," Derek tried to help Stiles but his muscles were frozen in place.

"I've got you," Stiles fought to drag Derek to the side, but it was too far. He swam and struggled under Derek's weight but no matter how far he swam, the side was unreachable.

"Scott," Stiles whispered to himself. "I need Scott."

Stiles stopped trying to reach the sides and just focused on holding Derek's paralyzed body above water.

"Scott!" Stiles shouted as loud as his tired lungs could.

"Stiles," Derek spluttered. 

"I've got you, just hold on," Stiles' muscles strained under the alpha's weight, but he fought to keep his head above the surface.

"We're alone," Derek sputtered again as water slid above his mouth briefly.

"Why is this happening?" Stiles repositioned Derek in his arms as they both slipped under the water for a moment.

Stiles barely managed to pull them both above water before a cold wind whipped across the surface chilling both Derek and Stiles further.

"Tinwe," it howled.

Realization washed over Stiles.

"Derek, it's not real, it's a dream, we have to wake up," Stiles coughed as water slipped between his lips.

"This feels awfully real, Stiles," Derek growled.

"It's not. It's not. I have to wake up. I have to wa-" Stiles slipped beneath the surface unable to keep them afloat any longer. 

Stiles closed his eyes and imagined himself waking up.

When he opened his eyes, he bolted up in Derek's bed. Derek did the same beside him, both coughing and sputtering pool water.

"Stiles," Derek gasped reaching for the human.

Stiles didn't respond, only panted for air. He and Derek were soaked through and freezing.

"Your dream," Derek's hand clasped Stiles' forearm, needing proof he was there.

"You were in it," Stiles finished looking to the alpha. 

Derek's wet hair was stuck to his forehead and his lips were slightly blue from the cold.

Stiles suddenly yanked from Derek's grasp, standing to his feet, putting as much distance between himself and the alpha as he could.

"Stiles," Derek frowned at the human.

"I did this. I did this to you," Panic washed over Stiles at just how serious this was. Images of Derek falling into the pool nearly brought Stiles to his knees. 

"You could have drowned...we could have-" a sob bubbled from Stiles' lips as his hands came to cover his mouth.

"Stiles, I'm okay, we're okay. It was just a-" Derek didn't finish his sentence as he reached Stiles' side. 

"It wasn't just a dream, it was...real somehow," Stiles snapped around fresh tears. He was shaking from the cold still, despite the warmth of the room.

"We'll figure this out, I promise," Derek reached out for Stiles again, but he stepped away from him.

"Don't," Stiles shook his head. "It's not safe."

"You're awake, Stiles. It's perfectly safe," Derek stepped forward, his arm wrapping around Stiles' shoulders.

"How did I even...how were you there? It's only ever been me," Stiles cried into Derek's shoulder as he curled into him, letting Derek envelop him in a hug.

"I was touching you, maybe that had something to do with it?" Derek offered softly.

"I'm so sorry," Stiles shivered.

"We should get warmed up. I'll make us tea and you shower again." Derek was a werewolf, he naturally ran warmer, if he changed into dry clothes, he'd feel better. But Stiles could use a hot shower.

Stiles only nodded as he pulled away from Derek.

"I promise we're going to figure this out, and I'm not letting you out of my sight until we do, got it?" Derek ran his thumb over a falling tear.

Stiles only nodded.

Derek leaned forward and pressed his head to Stiles', "I promise it's gonna be okay." He wanted to kiss Stiles, assure him that he was there and safe, but it wasn't the right time. He couldn't take advantage of Stiles' emotional state. But as soon as things were back to normal, he would tell Stiles how he truly felt, no matter how it affected their relationship.

He watched Stiles leave the room. As soon as he was out of sight, Derek slumped down onto the bed. His hand coming up to cover his face. The dream had felt so real and his soaked clothes and sheets told him it was. Was that what Stiles was going through every night? And alone? Derek's heart broke at the image of Stiles bolting upright in his bed with tears and remnants of a nightmare clinging to him. He hated that Stiles had waited so long to come to him. 

Derek pushed himself off his bed to change. He couldn't let Stiles see how much this hurt him or worried him. He had to be strong; Stiles needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it!


	18. Pancakes

Derek yawned as he tried to keep his eyes on the t.v. where the movie he'd put in was only thirty minutes in.

Stiles glanced at him from behind his mug of tea that Derek had made. "You don't have to stay up with me. You should get some sleep." He frowned at the alpha.

"I'm fine," Derek insisted, straightening in his seat as if that would make him more awake.

"I'm sorry," Stiles glanced down into his tea watching as the steam rose from the surface.

"Don't ever apologize for this. I wish you'd come to me sooner; we could have..." Derek trailed off; he didn't know what they could have done. He didn't even know what to do right now.

Stiles set his mug down and paused the movie. "We don't even know what's wrong with me. I'm...I'm..." he shook his head. He didn't even know what he was. Broken? Crazy?

"We'll figure this out. The pixies seemed to know something. She mentioned us being in chaos...maybe that has something to do with what's going on with you. We'll talk to Deaton in the morning," Derek glanced at the clock it was five in the morning already. He and Stiles hadn't gotten much sleep that evening. 

Stiles only nodded. He didn't know what Deaton would be able to do but at this point he was desperate. 

"The Tinwe thing..." he glanced back up at Derek, "Do you really think it means..." He trailed off once again.

"It makes sense...I don't understand the dreams or how it's all connected but...Stiles, you healed." Derek nodded to the woundless hands that were fidgeting in Stiles' lap. There had been literal vines coming out of them earlier and now...nothing. You wouldn't have even known it had happened.

"Sometimes I wonder if it even ever happened, but the pain..." Stiles shook his head, frowning down at his hands.

"I was there for that last one...it was real...or some form of real."

"I've tried to find the nemeton but...it doesn't want to be found I guess," Stiles shrugged.

Derek wanted to pull Stiles into him, but he was afraid to. Stiles didn't know about his feelings and it might overwhelm the poor human. However, Derek watched Stiles nibble at his bottom lip as his eyes got lost in thought. His hands writhed in his lap as if they could wipe away the memory of the dream.

"Stiles," Derek started. He didn't even know what he was going to say. He just wanted to erase Stiles' sadness and worry.

When tired whiskey eyes met Derek's, he broke. Grabbing Stiles' gently by the arm, he pulled him in, before wrapping his arms around Stiles, forcing the human to snuggle into his side.

Stiles was tense at first, but he slowly melted into Derek's side, allowing himself to be held. God how he loved this man.

Derek let the movie resume as silence fell over the pair.

-

At eight in the morning, Derek woke to the sound of clanging in the kitchen. He bolted up, finding himself on the couch with a blanket thrown over him. 

He groaned as he realized he'd fallen asleep during the movie with Stiles at his side. He followed the sound of clinking dishes to find Stiles making breakfast.

"Oh sorry, did I wake you?" Stiles looked at Derek with apologetic eyes.

Derek's heart leapt at the look of Stiles dressed in his clothes, making breakfast for them after spending the night together. This is what he wanted. This is all he wanted. 

"I was gonna go get something out but, I didn't want you to wake with me gone and worry."

Derek wanted nothing more than to cross the space between them and kiss Stiles.

"You didn't wake me," He said simply, forcing himself to stay planted where he was.

"I made pancakes," Stiles glanced to the pile of pancakes next to the stove where two more were cooking.

"Thank you," Derek smiled.

Stiles turned back to the stove, "I uh, I text Scott."

"Oh?" Derek grabbed a pancake from the plate next to Stiles, letting his hand fall to the human's back as he reached around him.

"I told him to swing by once he woke up. Hope that's okay," Stiles glanced over his shoulder where Derek took a bite of the pancake like it was finger food.

Derek only nodded; his mouth currently full of pancake.

"You know you can use a plate," Stiles laughed, nodding to the two plates he'd set out.

"Here," Stiles took the two pancakes straight from the stove and placed them on a plate, he then drizzled them in honey, just like he knew Derek liked, before setting it in front on the stool at the bar. "You want orange juice or cranberry juice?" Stiles asked, opening the fridge.

"Orange is fine," Derek watched Stiles fondly as he poured the glass and slid it towards Stiles. It was all so domestic, it made Derek's heart flutter.

"What?" Stiles frowned when he noticed the way Derek was watching him.

"You're just cute," Derek smirked, shaking his head as he turned to his plate of pancakes.

Stiles' frown deepened. 

"What?"

Derek paused, realizing that might have been too forward.

"I just...I mean, I imagine you do this for your dad so it's cute to see how it translates to my kitchen," Derek shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

"Oh," Stiles dipped his head in embarrassment. 

"Sorry I fell asleep," Derek spoke up again, his eyes not leaving his plate.

"It's fine, I'm glad you got some rest," Stiles waved a dismissive hand.

"I'm guessing you didn't?" Derek asked though he knew the answer already.

"I was afraid to," Stiles shrugged, busying himself with poking a still uncooked pancake with a spatula. 

"Did you call Deaton too?" 

Stiles only shook his head.

"I'll call him and when he and Scott get here, we can explain everything. Deaton has to know something, especially if the nemeton is involved," Derek spoke with confidence, like he believed what he was saying, however, he was silently hoping to anyone listening, that he was right.

Stiles only nodded, not anymore confident in Derek's words than Derek was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a sweeter chapter for ya. 😊


	19. Imbalance

Stiles paced the living room while he and Derek waited for Scott and Deaton to arrive. He wasn't saying anything, which told Derek he was deep in thought.

"What are you thinking?" Derek asked from his spot on the couch. 

Stiles paused mid pace and looked at Derek with frantic eyes, "What if Deaton doesn't have the answers. What if Scott thinks I'm crazy? What if I am crazy? What if-"

"Stiles," Derek cut in, standing. He made his way to Stiles and reached for his hands, holding them in his. "You aren't crazy. I experienced it too. And if Deaton doesn't have the answers, we'll find someone who does."

"What if I'm dangerous. I don't want any of you to get hurt because of me," Stiles looked down at where his hands were in Derek's. 

"You won't be abandoned, I promise," Derek knew that was what Stiles was really worried about. 

Stiles didn't say anything. He wanted to believe Derek, but he worried that the alpha was wrong.

"Come sit down, I just heard someone pull up," Derek glanced at the bay window that overlooked the parking lot. 

Stiles nodded, pulling away from Derek.

Stiles' fingers thrummed anxiously on his knee as he waited. 

Derek opened the door to see Scott and Deaton. 

Stiles' teeth sunk into his bottom lip as the anxiety crept up his throat. The taste of bile sour in his mouth as he swallowed hard.

"Stiles," Scott's worried eyes landed on the human. 

"Hey Scotty," Stiles forced a small smile.

Scott took a seat on the chair across from him. Deaton remained Standing. 

Derek sat next to Stiles. He wanted to reach out and take Stiles' hand, but he refrained. He had been too bold already the past few days.

The room was silent, all eyes were on Stiles as the three other men waited patiently for him to speak.

Stiles' eyes were set on his hands in his lap. "I don't know where to start," he glanced over at Derek.

"Maybe the dreams?" Derek offered gently. 

Stiles lifted his gaze to Scott.

"I'm...not really sure what to call them, but I've been having dreams sort of...except they're really happening," He glanced to Deaton.

"Like prophetic?" Deaton asked stepping forward, his curiosity peaked.

"No. Like...I wake up and there's proof that the dream actually happened."

"What do you mean?" Scott pressed, a frown tugging at his features.

"Like I dream that I'm on fire and I wake covered in burns," Stiles answered in frustration. He saw as Scott scanned him as if looking for said burns.

"They healed," Stiles huffed.

Scott raised his brows and looked to Derek.

"See? He thinks I'm crazy," Stiles tossed his hands up, as he threw himself back into the couch.

"I don't, I just...you healed?" Scott spoke up, his tone still unsure.

"I know it sounds nuts but...I've been dreaming of being buried alive and wake covered in dirt. I dream of getting hurt and wake up bleeding. I can't explain it. When I woke with burns, I could barely move because of the pain. I just wished I could heal like you and...I did," Stiles shrugged. His tone grew more frantic, desperate for Scott to believe him.

"How is that possible?" Scott looked to Derek and then to Deaton.

"When you healed, you wished for it. Do you heal automatically?" Deaton stepped forward again, his brows drawn in curious confusion.

"No," Stiles shook his head.

"May I try something?" Deaton pulled out a small pocket knife he kept on him.

Stiles extended his hand.

Deaton drew a small cut along Stiles' palm, causing the human to hiss in pain.

The cut remained as blood oozed from it.

"Wish for it to be healed," Deaton urged watching Stiles' hand carefully.

"I don't think it works like that but..." he looked down at his hand and wished the cut were gone. 

Slowly the cut closed leaving only a small line of left-over blood.

Stiles looked at Deaton with surprised eyes. He hadn't expected it to actually work despite it happening once before.

"Holy shit," Scott leaned in closer to see better.

"That is most interesting," Deaton hummed thoughtfully.

"Tell me more about these dreams," Deaton sat on the unoccupied chair in the room as Stiles took a deep breath. 

Derek watched Stiles as he explained each dream. It broke Derek's heart to hear it again, knowing now what it was like, it hurt him to know Stiles had gone through that alone so many times.

"Wait, wait, did you say tinwe?" Scott spoke up, his eyes meeting Derek's.

"Yeah. It apparently means-"

"Spark," Deaton cut in.

"The pixie, she was talking about Stiles," Scott said to Derek who only nodded.

"What did the pixie say?" Deaton raised a curious brow.

"Well, she was surprised we came without our tinwe, but she didn't explain what it was when we told her we didn't understand. Later she said we were out of balance with our emissary and that our land was in chaos. She promised she could bring balance to it with a ritual, but we had to bring her the rogue pixie," Scott explained.

"She also said to watch our tinwe," Derek added.

"How would she even know?" Stiles looked to Deaton.

"Pixies are...surprisingly in tune with nature, this gives them the ability to...sense things. Much like a werewolf can smell emotions, a pixie can sense them. If this has been going on as long as you say, you've been around Derek and Scott during that time. The pixies would sense your chaos and distress on them," Deaton explained calmly though he looked inquisitive as he spoke.

"But I'm not a spark..." Stiles glanced at Scott and Derek as if for reassurance.

"I believe you are, Stiles. The nemeton is trying to find balance. Two alphas are...rare and it can cause...things to fall out of balance."

"I don't understand what that has to do with me," Stiles frowned, his hands clenching anxiously.

"You are the link that will bring Scott and Derek together. The nemeton has found this link and is desperately trying to ensure it's strength."

A look of uncertainty and worry covered Stiles' face.

"Magic is...complicated and requires balance. The imbalance is likely why the pixie chose here despite her being from elsewhere. The imbalance draws in chaos. It thrives when there's an imbalance."

Stiles' stomach rolled with nausea. 

"He's tried finding the nemeton, wouldn't it want to be found if he is a spark?" Derek piped in then, sensing Stiles' anxiety heighten.

"Not necessarily. Stiles is rejecting it. Refusing to allow his spark to ignite. Perhaps if he...welcomed it, attempted to harness it, the nemeton could be found. Again, magic is complicated."

"I don't want this," Stiles stood quickly. "I like being human. My place is researching and planning, I'm not a, a, a, front lines guy," Stiles threw his hands around as he spoke.

Pain began to course through his arm, the more animated he got. His head began to throb. 

He winced as he grabbed his arm where the cut was searing.

"Stiles," Derek and Scott both stood.

"Are you okay?" Derek put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. His and Scott's arms began to swarm with black veins as they pulled the pain from Stiles.

"He's hurting," Scott looked to Deaton as if the man would have the answer.

"Shamanic crisis," Deaton nodded in understanding.

"What?" Derek snapped. Sometimes Deaton was too cryptic for his liking.

"It's a condition. An illness almost. When someone has magic that is trying to be drawn out and they reject it, it causes Shamanic crisis."

"How do you stop it?" Stiles panted.

"Leave Beacon hills," Deaton answered as if it was that simple. "You're too close to so much magic. Beacon hills is...well a beacon. The nemeton while diminished is full of magic. The pack is supernatural, which is a form of magic."

"So what, I can't be near magic?" Stiles snapped. That wasn't the solution he was hoping for.

Deaton gave a sympathetic smile, "or you could accept it."

Panic surged through Stiles, causing him to wince as pain shot up his arm again. 

"Hey, it's okay, we're here," Scott's tone was gentle and his touch comforting.

Stiles looked up to meet his best friend's eyes. What he saw froze him in place. Aconite covered vines wound around Scott's arms and throat. Gripping him in a vice. Blood began to bubble from Scott's mouth as the vines clenched tightly around the alpha's throat. His eyes flashing red.

Stiles yanked away from Scott and Derek. He blinked trying to make the vision go away.

"Stiles?" Scott and Derek stepped forward as the human frantically backed away his eyes clenched tightly. 

"Anxiety. His body thinks it's in trouble and his magic is flaring up, but because it's in chaos it's causing him pain. It can also cause hallucinations," Deaton reached into a small bag he'd brought and pulled out a small jar. 

Opening it, he walked towards Stiles who was rubbing his eyes, trying to wipe away the visions.

Deaton stuck his finger into the jar. When it emerged, it was covered in a black powder. Reaching forward he gently wiped the dust onto Stiles' forehead. 

Slowly the pain receded and when Stiles opened his eyes Scott was fine. 

"Mountain ash, it can help with side effects. I always keep some on me because well...beacon hills," Deaton lifted the small jar.

Stiles' whole body sunk into itself as he dropped to his knees. Tears sprung to his eyes. This was all too much. He just wanted things to go back to normal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer one for ya. 😇


End file.
